A Broken King
by Sierra Leone
Summary: Arwen dies shortly after Aragorn's coronation. Aragorn is forced to marry. A young elvenmaiden who has been a slave to men for years is made to marry him. Can she save a broken king, or is it too late for the King of Gondor Fourth Age. AU. Rated for ab
1. I Am Saeorii

Chapter One: I Am Saeorii 

Shecurled into a fetel position trying to protect herself from the blows that were raining down on her one after another. She did not have to open her eyes to know that the man enjoyed it as he kicked her in the stomach and she vomited from the force. She shook and could not stop as the blows continued, alternating between his staff and his foot. She prayed that someone would give her a sword so that she could run herself through and end her pain.

She was barely conscious as the blows ceased. She was barely aware as rough hands stripped her down to her shift, and tied her hands around a tree. Then she saw a flash of light as a burning pain beyond description hit her back, again and again and again. Screams tore from her throat and she could smell her own blood. Her elven ears heard the trees speaking what comfort they could offer her and the one to which she was tied gave her what strength it had. Soon she fell into darkness and knew no more.

* * *

"Get up you wench!" screamed the angry voice that ripped through the blissful darkness that had held her since that night.

She opened her eyes and was nearly blinded by the afternoon sun. Her body was stiff and hurt in ways that she had not known that it could. She could feel her stomach was bruised from having been slung across his horse like a sack of grain, and felt also that her shift was stuck with dried blood to her back.

"Get up!" he yelled again, coming into her limited line of sight. "We're almost to Gondor and you need to get yourself cleaned up before we present you."

He threw her tattered dress on the ground in front of her and walked back to where she heard his horse pawing the ground nervously. She tried to pull herself into a sitting position but fell on her side as the world around her spun. Her mouth was parched and she felt as though she would truly give anything to have just a sip of water. She tried to sit again, this time leaning against a tree when things began to spin. Slowly she reached for her dress and as gently as she could, pulled it over her starving body and then sat limp like a child's doll waiting to see where she would be dragged next.

"Here, wash your face and fix you hair. I intend to get a decent price for you, and it won't help me if you look like an orc," he instructed gruffly.

She took the wet cloth that he offered her and sucked what water she could from it before painfully washing her face and hands. She untied her kerchief and retied her hair, smoothing it with her hands. Then she tied it again at the base of her neck being sure that the tips of her elven ears did not show as he had always instructed. When he saw she was done he threw her back onto his horse and climbing up behind her, galloped off towards the White City.

* * *

Faramir sighed deeply. It had been another long day of poor women, hoping to become queen, parading before him. Had it been up to him alone he would have left the king in his misery. He saw no need to force him to marry, despite what it stated in Gondorian law. The king had lost his true love after the War of the Ring and still now he mourned her. It was said that she simply faded, despite her elven immortality. Since her death his honoured king had become cold, caring naught what happened to the citizens of Gondor and Arnor.

He dismissed yet another hopeful peasant, who in his opinion was dressed far too revealingly to be even slightly appealing and rested his head in his hand. They had asked all the lords of Gondor, Arnor and Rohan if they would give their daughters to be the kings' wife, all had answered the same. When he had first been crowned, yes, as he was now, no. It was then that the council had the grand idea of asking women of lesser estate; they would care not at all what he acted like if they were offered grand clothes and a palace. The council had been right and Faramir had been chosen to find the most beautiful of the woman in Middle-earth to be the queen of Gondor.

He looked out the windows high above him seeing the darkening of the winter sky and decided the next woman would be his last for the day. The doors opened and a rough looking man walked in dragging something underneath his arm. It did not take long for Faramir to see that the thing he was carrying was a woman. The man dropped her roughly onto the stone floor and instructed her to step forward, giving a generous blow to the face when it seemed she could not.

Faramir was just about to say something when the woman stood, slowly walked forward until she stood only two feet in front of him. Her head was bowed and she looked as if she would fall over in the slightest breeze, but despite her shabby appearance he could see her exotic beauty. Her skin was pale beneath the grime that stained her face and her hair although dull, was the colour of a raven's wing. He stepped forward and tilted her chin so that he could see her eyes. They were a startling shade of blue. So deep they were almost black and they became darker still when tears began to fill them and spill out onto her cheeks leaving silent trails down her cheeks.

"So is she the new queen?" demanded the man.

Faramir looked up at him and released the woman's face.

"If this young woman wishes to serve her kingdom by marrying the king, I would allow it." he answered formerly.

"Oh, she wishes don't you worry."

"Why don't we let her answer, hmm?"

* * *

Shefelt the man in front of her watching her, waiting for her answer. She did not wish to marry the king of Gondor, or any other king for that matter. She could also feel the eyes of her master, boring into her back and shook at the thought of what her punishment would be if she said no. Life as the Queen of Gondor could not possibly be as terrible as her life with her master. There would be no beatings, she would be fed and clothed, and it certainly could not be any worse.

"It is not my wish to marry the king," she answered slowly, "but if it would serve this kingdom, and please my master I would do so."

* * *

Faramir had no time to wonder at her answer before the man threw her to the ground and began to kick her.

"Guards!" he called, "Seize this man and remove him from the city!"

The man did not go willingly and Faramir could hear his curses long after the large doors had been shut. He knelt beside the woman and felt sorrow as she cringed away from his touch. She was motionless but breathed heavily and so he knew that she was alive. He picked her up as gently as he could and carried her to the Halls. He laid her out on a bed and then raced to another room to locate the woman he sought.

* * *

Maeve was startled to hear the young steward calling for her so urgently as she tended to one man's dwindling fever. She feared something terrible had happened though when he ran into the room, gasping for breath.

"There is a woman in the first room who needs your immediate attention, Lady Maeve. She is badly hurt."

Maeve knew not to question the young man and nodded quickly before following him to where he had told her. A young woman lay on top of the bed, in a tattered and stained dress. She quickly removed it, knowing that the steward had remained outside. She took a sharp intake of breath at what she saw, despite her many years as a healer. The girls' arms and legs were covered in bruises, some old, others still quite fresh. She tugged at her shift but stopped when the woman cried out.

Maeve gently turned her over and covered her mouth, fighting to keep her composure. The back of the shift was no more than bloody rags and strips of the skin on her back had been torn. She immediately filled the tub in the corner with warm water and placed the girl into it. The water was soon stained a muddy red colour , but she was able to remove the shift. She wrapped her in a large white towel and laid her out on the bed and carefully, thankful that the woman was unconscious, began the tedious task of examining and caring for her numerous wounds.

* * *

Shewoke and found herself in a strange bed, her first thought was that she had overslept and she tried to pull herself up but cried out as her injuries protested her sudden movements. Immediately there was someone beside her and she opened her eyes to see a kind, older woman, looking down on her with concern. The woman placed a gently firm hand on her chest,

"You are not going anywhere young one."

"Please, my master, he will…."

"He will do absolutely nothing. You are under my care now and I intend to see to it that you rest until your wedding and coronation."

Shefelt a sense of fear wash over her in a wave as she remembered her master kicking her and a man kneeling beside her. She could not however at the moment where she was or why she was here.

"Where am I?"

"You are in Gondor…"

Shebegan to cry as it all came rushing back. Running from her master, the beating and standing before a man and telling him she would marry his king. The woman smoothed back her hair and crooned as if she were a child.She revelled in the woman's tender touch for she had felt nothing but pain from the hands of others for many long years. The woman cradled her head in her lap and stroked her head gently speaking soft words of comfort while she cried. Finally when her tears had run out the woman began to speak.

* * *

"Now, there is no need to cry. You will be safe here. You will be crowned the queen of all the men of Middle-earth." Maeve looked down at the frightened creature and smiled. "It may not be your desire to marry the king, but you will be much better off than your previous situation, and I will always be here for you. Now no more tears, alright?"

The young woman nodded and brushed her tears away with the backs of her hands.

"Now," continued Maeve, "if I am to serve you I must know your name. I am known as Lady Maeve and have been a healer in this palace for many years."

"I am Saeorii."

* * *

To be continued...

Next Chapter we'll meet our king and see how losing Arwen has changed him! Love to get reviews and hear your thoughts, it makes it much easier to write. Update soon!


	2. Possession of Gondor

Chapter Two: Possession of Gondor 

"He was a great man. The first time that I saw him I knew that he was the king, but then shortly after his coronation he was sent word that the woman he loved had died. She was an elf, the daughter of and elven lord I believe, and supposedly very beautiful although she never made it to the city. After that he changed. He no longer seemed to care about anyone or anything. His friends left just a month ago, saying they were needed in their own homes, but it was not hard to tell that it had actually been King Elessar that had driven them away." Maeve continued to brush Saeorii's long, dark hair as she spoke. "Now he holds council's daily but sits there says nothing and hears nothing. I feel sorry for him although I can't say as there are many others here who feel the same way." She set the brush down and looked at Saeorii in the mirror, pulling part of her hair back to reveal elven ears. "You are very beautiful; it is not very hard to see why Lord Faramir chose you."

Saeorii smiled at the kind woman who had cared for her since her coming to Gondor. She could not believe that already two weeks had passed and today she was to marry the king and be crowned. The sun was just rising as she opened the window to feel the cool winter breeze. Her back was still a little tender but other than that, she was better physically than she had been in years. She continued to look out the window as Maeve began to lace up the back of her new silk shift. Today for the first time she would wear a royal dress. Her wedding would be no more than a legal ceremony before the coronation at noon.

_"You are here only because the laws state that the King must take a wife. I believe that you will find that in the absence of a king, the council of Gondor has learned to hold onto its laws and traditions very tightly. I had hoped that the return of the king might change that but he seems uninterested in changing anything. Your duties are really more for appearances than anything else. You are to attend the evening meals in the hall with the king. At any feast you must be present as well as any other celebration that may occur. You must attend foreign council's and welcome any guests that may arrive. I only hope that you can do more for Gondor than he has," he finished sadly._

The words of the steward played through her mind over and over as Maeve helped her into her dress. It was not the one she would wear to the coronation, with the colours of Gondor, but it was still more magnificent than anything she had ever worn. The dress was the same deep shade of blue as her eyes and was trimmed with silver. The top was tight and clung to her hourglass figure and then fell loosely at her hips, surrounding her on all sides with waves of fabric. She sat on the bed and turned so that Maeve could pin up her hair, and then finally wove tiny navy ribbons through it as a finishing touch.

She hadn't even realized that she had started crying again until Maeve handed her a silk handkerchief to wipe her tears. They sat in silence knowing that it would not be long now before someone came to lead her to the throne room where it would take place. They were not made to wait and soon there was a soft knock at the door. Saeorii wiped away what she told herself would be the last of the tears and took a deep breath, trying to pull herself together as Maeve went to open the door.

* * *

Aragorn stood staring at nothing as he waited for the woman that was to be his wife to be brought to him. He did not care. This marriage meant nothing, he would not be forced to love her, or even speak to her. It was all a formality. He had not been surprised at the council's objections when Faramir informed them that she was elf-kind, but when she was brought before them, during a council at which he was not present, their doubts seemed to have been abated somewhat and it was agreed that she would indeed be their choice. The way they were going about this reminded him rather of the way a rider picked out a horse. Find the one that looks the best and is obedient and that's the one he wants. She was merely a possession of Gondor, nothing more.

This was not how he had imagined himself being married. He had imagined a large celebration in Rivendell with all of his closest friends present. He could still see Arwen, beautiful in a soft gown of white with flowers woven through her elven crown. He could imagine her standing beside him with the golden sun shining on her dark hair, giving her an erethreal look. He could still taste the sweetness of her kiss; feel her slender hand in his own. No, this was not the wedding of Aragorn, merely the wedding of King Elessar of Gondor he told himself as the doors to his right opened and he turned to face her.

* * *

Saeorii did not even look at him. She kept her head bowed as she walked beside Faramir and then knelt before the steps on which the king stood. Faramir took her hand and gently led her to stand beside the king as the council, who were the only others that would be present, stepped forward to witness their joining. Faramir placed her hand in that of the king and she was surprised to find it rough like a soldier's and not soft like one who had been raised to be a king. She finally looked at him from the corner of her eye. He looked much younger than she had expected for she knew his age, and his skin was darkened by the sun. His hair was dark but she could not see his face to tell whether or not his eyes were cold steel as it was said.

The ceremony was short. They exchanged rings and drank from a cup of wine which was meant to show them as united. Then she stood next to him silently as they waited for those who would sign the certificate as witnesses. All too soon it was her turn and she could not stop one tear from falling to the parchment as she slowly wrote her name in the language of men. With that one word, her very name, she signed away the next years of her life. Her freedom that she had dreamed she would receive when her master released her now would not come until the death of this king to whom she was now wed. The councillors applauded as they turned and bowed and then he left; saying nothing and she was led once again down the halls towards her room.

* * *

Aragorn felt no shame in leaving the woman standing alone in front of his council. He felt nothing. She was as they had told him, very beautiful, but that mattered not. He locked the door to his chambers behind him and stood on his balcony despite the cold and the snow that swirled around him. He bowed his head and wished with every fibre of his being for this to be a nightmare and that soon he would awake next to Arwen. He could still feel her warmth in his arms as he said good-bye to her before leaving with the fellowship. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the shattered pieces of the necklace she had given him. It had shattered the day that Elrond later told him she died. He wanted more than anything to cry for her, but he would not allow himself as he had not since her death. To cry would be to admit that she was gone from him, forever, and he was not yet willing to do that.

* * *

Saeorii leaned against the thick wooden doors, noticing subconsciously that the two that guarded the door immediately stood straighter at her appearance. The past hours had been a blur and she wished for her mind to slow so that she could begin to sort through it all. She began down the hall but paused at the voice of one of the guards.

"Your majesty, pardon me, but would you like me to escort you to the king's chambers?"

The realization that she would now live in the same rooms, sleep in the same bed as the king hit her with the force of one of her masters blows. She only nodded weakly and allowed the man to lead her through the maze of halls she did not recognise. The robe that bore the white tree of Arnor was heavy upon her shoulders and her steps, hidden beneath her trailing gown, were slow. The wind howled outside the stone walls and she had been told that a fierce storm raged outside.

The guard opened the door before she even realized they had stopped. She thanked him quietly and felt the loud thud that echoed through the room as the doors were shut behind her. Lamps burned, casting strange shadows and giving the room a haunting look. It was a large room with chairs, a massive desk, and bookshelves. She noticed no more before Maeve walked through a door at the far end. She moved towards her and fell ungracefully into her open arms, weeping bitterly.

* * *

Aragorn was glad that the day was done. The queen had been excused early in the evening after having bid farewell to all who were present, however he had been asked to stay and speak with the council. It was becoming more and more obvious to him that those who were still loyal to Lord Denethor were overruling those who were not, and that was one thing that he might have to do something about. The councillors thought him to be completely ignorant to the ways of the court. He was not ignorant, he just didn't care. They would only get so far before they learned that.

He removed his royal attire and pulled on the loose tunic and leggings that served as his nightclothes before lying down and preparing himself for another sleepless night. None but Legolas seemed to be able to see the dark shadows under his eyes and he had dismissed his friends concerns as ridiculous and ignored the topic for the short remainder of his stay. He noticed for the first time in the darkness that surrounded him the sound of even breathing and remembered that these rooms were no longer solely his.

He turned his back to where he knew she must be; determined to ignore her presence completely. Soon though he found himself drifting off, the lulling sound of rhythmic breathing causing his eyelids to become heavy. In. Out. In. Out. In. Out. He soon found his own breathing falling into the same even rhythm and noticed his eyes were closed and the sound of the howling wind was fading as he slipped from consciousness. In. Out. In. He sighed deeply, feeling the peace of a healing sleep. Out.

To be continued...

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	3. The Broken King

Chapter Three: A Broken King 

"My lady, I bid you please rise; lord Faramir is here to see you."

Saeorii tore herself from her warm dream and brought herself into her cold reality. She had been in Gondor for two months now and each day passed as the last one. She was woken by Maeve, bathed, ate and then spent the long winter days speaking with Maeve who had proved to be a wonderful companion. Then, every evening she was taken to the dining hall where, with bowed head, she would sit next to the silent king. That was all she ever saw of him for he rose before she woke and she went to bed before he came to their rooms, not that she minded. The little she saw of him each day was enough for her liking.

Maeve handed her robe to her as she stepped into her silk slippers before her feet touched the cold stone. She stretched and pulled it over her shoulders as she walked into the next room where she knew Faramir would be waiting. He was the only one who had welcomed her since her arrival. Her elven ears had often caught the foul whisperings of the councillors behind closed doors as she silently walked the halls, and the people had lost hope that she would return their great and honourable king to them.

* * *

"Good morning your majesty," he greeted bowing low.

He stood and felt his cheeks warm as he looked up and saw his queen in her nightgown, feeling as if he betrayed his Lady Eowyn with the feelings she stirred in him. He still could not understand how his king could remain blind to her no matter how great his loss.

"My queen, I am sorry." he stammered in embarrassment, hoping that elves could not truly read minds as some said. "I did not realize,"

"Good morning Lord Faramir," she greeted cheerfully, graciously dismissing his obvious embarrassment as she sat down in a chair next to the fire and motioned him to take the one opposite him. "Please, sit down."

"Of course. I came to tell you that the members of the foreign council have just arrived and there is to be a feast held in their honour this evening. The king requests your attendance."

"They must have fared better in the storm than we had feared," she replied politely.

"Yes, they did. They were able to find shelter among the trees of Fanghorn."

"That is good."

He watched for a moment as she undid the end of her braid. He longed again to see her deep blue eyes, but as she always did in his presence she would not look at him. He yearned to be able to teach her somehow that she did not need to fear him, but she was his queen and he knew that a friendship with her would be frowned upon. He hated all the ridiculous restrictions of his city and longed again to roam with the freedom that was his when he led the Rangers of Ithilien, but they would not ride again until spring. He watched as she drew further into her chair when he stood to leave; frightened by his sudden movement. He looked at Lady Maeve who had come to stand silently beside her.

* * *

She shook her head sadly at the young steward who looked at her with mournful eyes. He was such a kind man, she wished again as she had often in the past months that he were the ruler instead of King Elessar. She placed her hand on Saeorii's shoulder hoping somehow to give her the courage to look up and see that he meant her no harm but she would not.

"By you leave your majesty."

* * *

"Of course," Saeorii answered quickly, "and Lord Faramir." She heard his steps pause, "Thank you."

"Your welcome, my queen."

She did not move for a long time after he had left. She felt her involuntary fear of men fade as she listened to his steps echoing on the worn stones of the hallway. Maeve left her and returned a short time later carrying a tray with her breakfast.

"You must eat, young one," she spoke tenderly as she handed her a plate of dried fruits.

"Thank you."

"Lord Faramir is a good man." she said, obviously guessing her thoughts.

"I know. He has been very patient with me since I arrived; I only hope that I do not disappoint him this evening. This will be my first meeting of the foreign council and I do not wish to insult them, or make them think ill of Gondor because of me."

She looked up at the sound of Maeve's laughter.

"You are the least of our worries if we wish them to think well of Gondor. They will be enchanted by your beauty and grace, I'm sure."

She smiled although Maeve's words did little to reassure her of her own abilities.

* * *

Aragorn sat on the raised platform on which his chair and that of the queen had been raised. His guest's were entering the room in their proper order and he felt something he recognised as guilt stir in his heart as he caught sight of King Eomer and his sister Lady Eowyn. He had not seen them since before Arwen's death and he felt for the first time a small bit of embarrassment and shame at what he had become. They all remained seated as one of the guard's opened the door and the Queen of Gondor entered. He hated himself for his feelings embarrassment; they made him feel weak and so he replaced them with feelings of anger.

* * *

Eomer could not help but stare as the Queen stepped through the door. She was truly fairer than it was rumoured. Her head was bowed and slender hands were clasped in front of her as she turned and knelt before King Elessar. Her dress was garnet and trimmed with black, highlighting the design on her delicate crown. Her movements were timid and unsure as the king descended and it was then for the first time that he saw the dark look in the king's eyes.

* * *

Aragorn thrived on his feelings of anger, fuelling them with memories. Memories of Gandalf falling, Boromir's glazed eyes, Haldir's dead form in his arms. He remembered then Arwen and the fact that she had been taken from him. She had been taken and another had dared to take the place beside him that he had long ago given to her. With every step towards the queen he felt his anger grow until truly he trembled with rage. Her head was bowed as he descended the stairs, but her submissive stance only angered him more.

"How dare you!" he screamed, startling all those in the room into silence.

All their eyes were on him but he cared not as his hand reached out and sent her reeling against the stone walls. Instantly, Faramir was at her side and all the others seemed frozen as he stormed past her and out of the room.

* * *

Eowyn was the first to recover and felt her anger flare within her. She had heard that Aragorn had changed, but had never imagined that he could have changed so much from the great man who had come and rallied the hope of her people. She raced across the room towards the doors he had ran through and was quickly let pass by the young guards who recognised her.

"Which way did the king go?" she demanded of the guards.

The guards stayed silent but looked extremely uncomfortable under her piercing glare.

"Tell me where the king went or I shall have you hung myself!" she warned.

The guard only pointed to his left and watched in shock as she stormed quickly down the hall. She could not believe that he could stoop so low. Faramir had told her of the timid queen in his letters to her and she had looked forward to meeting her and getting to know her better. She spotted him in the hallway ahead of her.

"Stop!"

He kept going and she ran towards him. The shield maiden of Rohan would not be ignored. She grabbed his arm and forced her to face him. He glared at her coldly.

"You seem to forget to whom you speak, my lady," he said threateningly.

"It is no king," she returned.

"How dare you!" he cried and moved his hand as if to strike her.

"How dare I? Indeed you would regret it should you decide to strike me, you would find that I am not so tame as your queen. Why have you done this?"

* * *

Aragorn stood silent, but he was not ignoring her; he didn't have an answer. It had been like another had taken hold of him and hit the queen with his hand while he stood outside himself and watched. He felt now that there was nothing in life left for him but to run himself through with his own sword. When had the shadow taken hold of him? When had he become such a heartless creature?

"Do not dare tell me that it is in memory of the one you lost. Do not defile her name by claiming it is her loss that causes you to ignore your people and abuse your wife!" He could see Eowyn's anger, and knew that it was well deserved. "You shame the memory of your Lady Arwen, Aragorn, son of Arathorn. You shame your people and you shame your own name which not long ago brought the only hope for the people of these lands, and now at its utterance they are disgusted or tremble in fear. Truly I do not know you, and I will not stay here, nor will I ever return while you sit upon the throne."

'Truly I do not know you.' Her words echoed through his mind as she turned and walked away from him and back towards the hall. He leaned against the cold wall in front of him and sighed.

"Nor do I, my lady," he whispered to her, "Nor do I."

* * *

Saeorii could not think. She had thought that staying here would end the blows. Truly, in comparison this one was not so bad, it was only one blow, but somehow it had shaken her to her very core. Faramir had carried her here when she fainted in fear and still now she shook so that she could not wipe away the blood from the deep cut that had been left by the renowned ring of Barahir. Maeve held a cool cloth to the side of her face and talked to her in a soft voice, trying to calm her.

She felt her tremors becoming less just as she heard the echoing footsteps of the one who had given new life to her old fears. She breathed deep and told herself that he would not hurt her with Maeve here, but she still could not stop a tiny whimper from escaping as the doors to the outer room were opened.

* * *

Aragorn slowly opened the door to his bedroom, unsure of what to expect. For some reason he half expected some wild beast to lunge at him and throw him to the ground. It had taken a long time to convince her lady, Maeve, to allow him to see her alone. In fact he was still unsure of why she had. He closed the door behind him quietly. She sat on the bed; the curtains along the side were pulled back. Even from where he stood he could see her shaking as if terribly cold and felt another stab of guilt knowing it was actually caused by fear of him. Slowly he walked over to her. The side of her face that was turned to him was already deeps shades of blue and purple. He winced inwardly as he noticed that his ring had cut her face as well. He stopped beside her watching as she visibly tried to calm herself.

He reached out, wishing only to wipe away one of her tears and she flinched quickly away. He bowed his head and did not try any further, but turned and walked towards the fire. 'You shame the memory of your Lady' He felt as if all the life were suddenly taken from him and he fell to the floor hard, but did not acknowledge the pain.

"Elbereth, forgive me!" He cried out in elvish, "Arwen, forgive me, please," he sobbed as he surrendered to his tears and for the first time since her death; he cried. "What have I done? What have I done?" he chanted in the fair tongue.

Saeorii sat motionless, listening to his cries for some time before she gathered the courage to peer around the curtain at the end of the bed. She saw him, broken on the floor, his body heaving with the force of his laments. She watched him for a moment before rising unsteadily to her feet. Cautiously she walked towards him as if she feared it was some trick and expected him at any moment to lunge at her, but he did not.

She knelt close to him and hesitantly reached out towards him and placed her hand on his back. He seemed unaware of her presence, but his sobs continued and tore at her heart despite her fear of him. In truth she did not fear this man who lay broken at her side and her heart longed to ease his pain.

She moved closer and slowly pulled him towards her. She lovingly cradled his head against her breasts, as a mother does her hurting child. She held him to her, stroking the side of his face tenderly with her small hand and letting her dress catch his tears. She slowly, began to rock back and forth as he continued to weep; oblivious it seemed, to her warm embrace. The sky cleared and the moon rose as she knelt there, letting the gentle breeze caress her, despite its chill. The stars gathered in her hair as it is said of elves and created a silver halo around her dark head as she rocked gently back and forth, back and forth, back and forth; cradling the broken king while the moon made its long journey across the star strewn vaults of heaven.

To be continued...

Thanks to my first reviewer, Luthien, and thanks for the advice Estel-Ara and hope that you will continue to read my story. I love to get reviews, hope to hear from you soon and will try to post soon!


	4. The Return of the King

Chapter Four: The Return of the King 

Aragorn woke to the softness of his own bed beneath him. He did not move, feeling almost physically the weight of what he had done. Air moved through the open window. It was unusually warm for the time of year and seemed to mock the chill that he felt within himself. He moaned in protest as he opened his eyes and was rendered blind by the cruel brightness of the sun. He turned and slowly swung his legs over the side of the bed and let his throbbing head rest in his calloused hands as he sighed deeply.

What he had done was unforgivable, and yet he could not forget the feeling of her warmth around him. He remembered the feeling of the soft rise and fall of her chest against his face. The sound of her soothing voice lulling him to quiet. He had fallen asleep there in her arms and felt suddenly an overwhelming desire to be there again. He felt, despite his guilt, an unexplainable joy, and will to live life to its very fullest. He realized now that mourning Arwen in such a way as he had did not honour, but brought her a shame he never intended.

He walked out onto the balcony, listening to the sounds of the people of Gondor below him as they made their way through their day. Over these sounds however he heard a sweeter one. The sound of a bird, and he looked to see it flying free overhead. "One concept that elves have a terrible time dealing with is passing. People pass through our lives, maybe only for a short time. It pains us when they leave, but they would not wish us to stop living in their absence. We will never forget them though, for they have enriched our lives; taught us something and that is worth all the more." He heard Elrond's words so clear that he was startled to find him not standing behind him, and smiled. Things would be different, or maybe it was just that things would be the way they always should have been.

* * *

Maeve pulled the velvet blanket over the shoulders of her sleeping lady with the extreme tenderness shown to a newborn child. Her pale face was stained with the mark of his hand and the sun shone upon it as if to try and fade its cruel stain. She had found her lady, early that morning, holding tenderly to her, King Elessar. She had helped move the sleeping king to his bed before leading her exhausted queen to her own less lavish chambers to rest. Maeve wondered at what had transpired between the two to result in such a position as she found them, but had not ventured to ask.

She was still unsure if she had been right to allow the king to see her, but she at least knew that he had not done her lady any further harm. She had told herself that he would never again be within arms reach of her lady; that is until she saw his eyes. She had seen him that day as he walked through the gate of the city for the first time as heir to the throne after the Battle of Pelannor Fields. She had seen his silver eyes, filled with hope, valour, and courage and known in that moment that he would triumph over the shadow that was cast over them. He had triumphed but then was cast, alone, into the shadow of his loss. There he had failed; or so it had seemed to her, until last night. Then again she had looked into his face and seen such things of wonder as are told of the great kings of old, and of the elves. There she had seen the light of a king.

* * *

"You have made me a liar!" Faramir shouted, his pent up anger finally being released.

The king stood with his back to him, looking intently out of the windows of his study, almost as if to protect himself from the steward's words which dug sharply with truth. Faramir had told himself that yelling would solve nothing, but had not been able to stop himself when he was called before his king and found him unchanged. He was not sure what change he had expected, but he perceived none and could no longer contain himself.

"I promised her that if she stayed here the abuse would stop!" he continued, no more quietly than before.

He was surprised though when his king turned quickly to him, his face bearing a pained expression.

"What abuse? Explain yourself immediately!" his king demanded sharply.

This Faramir had not expected and in his surprise was rendered silent for a moment as he gathered his wits.

"Did you not find it strange that an elf should willingly marry a mortal whom she didn't know? She was brought here by a man, who asked a price for her. She could hardly stand; he had beaten her so badly." His king, though appropriately appalled, seemed still not to quite fathom what his words meant. His voice was cold as he finished. "She was not given a choice, Aragorn, about the marriage, or the ruthless tearing of her flesh." He paused to let his words sink in. "She was a slave."

His king leaned against his large desk, pulling his hand into a tight fist and bringing it down upon its surface with unexplainable strength. He muttered a harsh word in a language that Faramir did not recognise and turned and sank wearily into his chair. He heard a sound like words from his king but could not understand them.

"Pardon?" he asked quietly, unsure of what his king would do next.

His king looked up at him, his eyes shaking Faramir to his very core. Aside from the fact that they were filled with tears, they had changed. Faramir saw again a man, a friend that had been lost to him since the coronation of his king. He saw again the humble healer who had spent countless hours at his bedside while he regained his strength. He saw again the unparalleled knowledge of a Ranger called Strider. He saw again the tenderness and love of a man called by the elves, Estel. Hope. He saw again the humble greatness, courage, valour and wisdom of Elessar to whom he had pledged his very life. He saw again Aragorn, son of Arathorn, in all his splendour and felt somewhat less than he had before. He felt slightly awed, and humbled as he first had at the return of his king. For truly this man was a king.

* * *

Saeorii sighed as she watched the sun set through the open window by which she sat. She had sent Maeve to inform the king that she 'felt ill and could not join him, but to please forgive her.' Even the smallest movement of any part of her face pained her. Nearly the entire side of her face was discoloured and the tender flesh was swollen hiding her high cheekbone and lessening her elegant jaw line. She turned at the opening of the door behind her, expecting to see the amiable face of Lady Maeve, but instead felt her heart lurch in her chest at the sight of the king.

She immediately bowed her head before she could catch a glimpse of his imploring eyes as he moved slowly towards her. Here she was not required to bow, but she wished for something to end the silence that enshrouded them.

"My lady."

She had never before taken notice of the richness of his deep voice, but found her own could not answer, nor could she bring herself to look towards him.

"Maeve told me you were ill, but we both know that is not true. Having lived among elves I know they cannot be so without cause."

His voice was calm, gentle, like the breeze the flowed through the open window beside her.

"I did not wish to disgrace his majesty with my presence," she heard herself whisper.

His laughter was soft, like the wind through the leaves of a poplar tree.

"My lady, you could never cause me any more disgrace than I have already brought upon myself."

He moved his hand slowly closer to her face, she tensed but the blow did not come. She felt instead tender warmth as he gently forced her to look up at him, but she kept her eyes downcast. He stood silently waiting until timidly she met his solemn gaze. His face was weathered and showed plainly his years in the wild. His silver eyes shone against his sun-darkened skin and she felt an urge to brush back and unruly lock from his tender face.

* * *

He stood there in silence, truly looking at her for the first time. Her skin, except that which he had stained, was alabaster white against her onyx hair which was pulled back except for a few dark tendrils that framed her heart-shaped face. Her eyes were beautiful; the colour of the night sky not tainted by any star or moon. He realized now, for the first time, standing beside her how small she was. She was thin, almost frail, though he could still see plainly her sultry curves beneath the thick velvet of her dress. Truly, if it was once said the Arwen Undomiel was Luthien returned to earth, then the fair creature before him was Luthien herself.

She trembled slightly beneath his touch, still afraid of him, but silently putting her trust in his seemingly good intention. He had some here to apologise, to beg her forgiveness, but he was not so talented with words as he knew Faramir to be, nor was there any excuse for what he had done.

"My Lady, what I did……there is nothing that can……I just," he paused. All of the words that came to his mind seemed inadequate to describe how devotedly sorry he was. No such words had yet been spoken in the language of any he knew.

"Nothing I can say will change what I have done. In truth, I know not how to tell you how sorry I feel. I do not deserve your forgiveness, but it is all I ask."

He studied her eyes intensely as he wavered with uncertainty as to what he should do next.

"It forgiveness were deserved it would not be so great a gift, your majesty, and you need not ask it of me for it has already been given to you."

"How can you forgive me after what I've done?" he asked her astounded.

"Elves live immortal lives. Bitter and lonely lives would they be if we could not learn to forgive those who hurt us."

* * *

The intenseness with which he looked at her somewhat frightened her, and when he moved his hand from her face and she once again looked down at her hands. Her cheek felt cold in the absence of his touch, but made no move to tell him so.

"Would you then allow me the great honour of escorting you to this evening's meal," he asked softly as he held out his arm to her.

She knew that her hand shook but felt it steady as she rested it lightly on his strong arm and allowed him to lead her away from the window as the sun coloured the room with a golden light.

* * *

Faramir turned, startled as the king's entrance to the dining hall opened slowly. He was astonished though, as he watched the king entered slowly leading the injured queen towards his seat. He knew that he was not the only one surprised as all of the many conversations in the rooms ceased. Some, like him, stared in silent wonder, but were pleased; others stared at the king, unwilling yet to forgive him. The pair moved slowly towards their seat, she seeming to be steadied by his guiding arm and Faramir felt himself rise to his feet and bow slightly as had long ago been the tribute paid to the king's of old, but never as yet to King Elessar, least not in this manner.

Her felt more than saw the others around the table stand, some more slowly than others, but very soon he knew that they all stood. He looked up slightly to see that the king had frozen mid-step, obviously aware of the momentous honour that had just been paid him. He caught the king's eye and smiled, and it was returned to him. None moved until the king and queen both were seated, and then as of one body, they sat. That day would be remembered by those who were there as the day Gondor's king was returned, and the day that its greatness and splendour began.

To be continued...

Thanks to my reveiwers Estel-Ara and Pasha ToH! A special thanks to Amelia who's overwhelming review totally blew me away. All of you had such nice things to say, you made my entire week! Don't know what I'd do without you! Sorry it took so long to post. I was away for a week and had to update my other story too. Hopefully next one will be sooner. Anyway, I love to hear from you, and thanks so much!


	5. Sleep Well, My Lady

Chapter Five: Sleep Well, My Lady 

The window beside her cast strange shadows across her marred face as he sat across from her. Only moments ago had his confidences given way to the silence that surrounded them now. He had spoken with her, as he had every morning in the week since her forgiveness, for the past hour as they ate breakfast together in their outer chambers. Her soft answers were short but were all the encouragement that he needed to continue in hopes that he would one day be able to coax her to let him see her deep eyes again.

He had seen there a pain that haunted him more than the deaths in any battle he had ever fought and he longed to replace it with the joy he had always seen in even the saddest of elves. He sighed as he finished his tea and felt sadness in knowing he had to leave her for the day. He stood slowly, seeing her tense as he moved, and gathered their dishes onto the tray he had brought them on.

"May your day be pleasant, my lady, and I shall see you again this evening."

"Until then, your majesty," she answered him softly as he knocked on the door, signalling the guards to open it for him.

* * *

Maeve sighed deeply; her concern for her lady growing. She had been here two months and still locked the pain that was clearly written in her every movement to herself. She wondered how long the poor creature had been held against her will. She wondered too who she was made to leave behind. Surely she must have had a life before. She was overjoyed at the change in the king. She had thought that perhaps he would be able to help her lady, but she gathered from his sorrowful eyes that morning that he was as unsuccessful as she. 

She looked up from her stitching and studied the frail child before her, for curled up on the pelts that lined the floor before the fire that is what her lady appeared. A lost and broken child. Saeorii was oblivious to her observations as she sat with her back against the high hearth, a book in her lap unopened as she stared at the rain chasing its was down the panes of glass that sheltered them from the outside. Maeve watched as a shadow trailed down Saeorii's pale cheek, and realized only as the child reached up to brush it away that it had been a shadow of a different kind. The shadow of pain.

* * *

"I have been expecting you," stated Aragorn as a familiar presence filled the small room in which he stood, "or one of the others, to come." 

"I should think you would have."

Silence fell between them. Neither moved from where their last words had left them, until at last the silence was broken. The visitor stepped from the shadows, his staff resounding dully on the floor of stone. His voice before had been harsh, but the expression on his old face now was one of compassion.

"I have not come to condemn you, Aragorn, although I must admit that thought crossed my mind during my travels here."

"Does Lord Elrond know that you are here?" he asked quietly as if fearing the answer.

"No. Nor shall he unless I feel that it is necessary. I am here only as counsel to you, and" he paused, embracing the great king of Gondor as a father embraces his long lost child, "as a friend."

* * *

Saeorii had nearly cried out as she heard the knock at the door, her mind had not been within the walls of Gondor. Maeve quickly answered the door, and Saeorii heard the voice of the king and stood, trying to straighten her long dress. She heard the door close and the king and another walk towards where she stood. 

"My lady, this is my friend…" the king was interrupted.

"Elebreth, save me!"

Saeorii looked up, knowing before she did so who she would see. The wizard moved quickly past the king and she felt herself drawn into the comforting arms of a past before her pain. Remembrances of the time before that she had made herself forget in order to survive, came flooding back as she smelled on him the familiar scent of his pipe. She felt the tightness in her chest from unshed tears and untold pain break as she allowed herself for the first time to cry for all that had been done to her.

* * *

Aragorn watched from where he stood frozen in place. He hurt to see such a beautiful creature in such anguish. His heart ached to see her weep for what his heart told him was the first time in her years of pain. He could see little of her tiny frame amid the wizards white robes; only her slender hand that clung to them as if they were her tie to life and her raven head which the wizard stroked gently. The wizard had sank gently to the floor and sat now with his back to him, Saeorii still held to him tightly, but Aragorn did not have to see to know the tears that were upon the wizards face and left quietly knowing that for the moment the wizard would do her much more good than he himself could.

* * *

Aragorn was startled from his brooding thoughts at the sound of the door to his right opening. The wizard seemed truly old, and looked as if a great weight were upon him. The dark afternoon had given way to a night darker still. He had returned a short time ago with tea and hopes of learning something from Gandalf about her past. The wizard nodded appreciatively as Aragorn handed him a steaming cup of tea and sighed as he took the first drink. Aragorn knew the wizard well enough to know that it would do no good to press him, and so waited for his friend to speak. 

"It breaks my heart to see her this way." He paused. "Terrible things they did to her Aragorn. Things that should be done to no man, but even less, to an elf." His voice wavered slightly, "She has been gone from us for many years. They have stolen so much from her that no one shall ever be able give back."

"Faramir told of the torture they put her through."

"I am afraid that he does not even know the beginning. I am afraid that the most painful scars are those that you cannot see. Men have done terrible things to her. They did not just beat her. They did not just force her to work as their slave." His voice was rising with anger. "They took away from her something that can never be gotten back."

Aragorn had never seen the wizard so angry and felt himself leaning back slightly as the wizard seemed to grow more terrible and powerful with every passing moment.

"I do not understand you, my friend. Please, tell me what has made you so angry."

Gandalf's voice was filled with venom and he spat his words as if they tasted bitter in his mouth.

"They killed those who protected her. Hunted her down like some beast. Took her with them and beat her for their pleasure, and when that did not break her they, they, they stole from her, her most precious gift and used her as they wished!"

Aragorn now fully understood what had been done to her and felt ill with the growing anger and hatred towards those who had done it to her. The wizard sat down as if drained of all his strength shook his head sadly before lapsing into complete silence.

"I would like to help her," Aragorn told him softly.

"Indeed," the wizard answered absently before seeming to fully comprehend what the man had said. He looked towards the door from which he had just come, and then back to Aragorn. "Go to her then. She does not sleep."

Aragorn obeyed the wizard willingly and closed the door quietly behind him. The room was dark except for the light of the ill-tended fire and a candle that sat flickering beside the bed. He strode quietly towards her, not moving to quickly so as to frighten her for he knew he was hidden from her by the curtain which had been half drawn across the bed. He looked at her as he sat in the chair that had been pulled next to the bed.

She would not look at him. She lay on her curled up on her side, her entire body tense at his mere presence. She shivered which to him, did not bode well for elves do not shiver from the cold of the air, but of the heart and of the soul. He reached slowly towards a blanket that was draped across the end of the bed, she flinched at his movement. Her breathing grew quicker with fear as he moved to cover her tiny frame. Instead of returning to his chair though, he sat on the edge of the bed and looked at her, sadness weighing heavy on his heart.

Time passed, although he could not say how long, and she glanced timidly up at him. He smiled. He then began slowly to reach out his hand towards her face. Her eyes left his only long enough to glance at his hand and then return to his eyes showing her own filled with fear and apprehension.

"Please, I beg you not to fear me, lady. I am not like those who held you; my hand will not stray."

With that spoken he rested his hand on her soft cheek. He could feel her pulse racing and hear her uneven breath's. He did not take his hand away; slowly her pulse returned to normal, her breath's falling into the even rhythm of life. Her eyes did not leave his and he could see within them the silent struggle. The fight to keep herself from pulling away from his touch, and hiding from men forever. Moments passed silently before he returned to his chair. He blew out the candle beside him, smelling the smoke as it wafted towards the open window.

"Sleep, my lady, for you are weary. Sleep and I shall stay here at your side until you wake. I shall not move from where I sit, to touch you or harm you in any way. Sleep well, and know that none who mean to harm you shall ever pass through here. Sleep well, my lady. Sleep well. Sleep."

To Be Continued...

Actually know what I'm doing for the next chapter so it should be up pretty soon, might be a little short though.

Estel-Ara: Definately!It was so hard to make Aragorn seem like such a terrible person at first though because I really do like him. Oh well, I'll just have to make up for it in future chapters!

Blacksand: Thank you so much for all of your encouraging comments and I'm glad that you like the idea. Everybody won't, especially those devoted to A&A, but I don't have anything against them but their story's already been told. I'm going for original!

Hwena: Totally not gonna bail! Have to admit though that my other story has been slightly neglected since I started this one, but I'm think I'm getting the hang of ballancing the two. Thanks so much for your review!

Amelia: Thank you so much. Gonna do another chapterfor this story before I do another for "Born of Hope", but still keeping on with both of them. Thanks for all your encouragement!

Christina Anderson: Thank you so much for your wonderful review! I've always wanted to do a romance with him in it but there aren't many so I wondered what the response would be. So far its been good, thanks again!


	6. Shattered Spirit

Chapter Six: Shattered Spirit 

_She held back a cry of pain as she lost her balance and fell hard against an old tree. Her breathing was raspy and uneven and her chest heaved with each painful breath she took. Her muscles screamed from overuse and her entire body felt like lead. She knew if she did not keep going they would find her but she couldn't move. She had long ago discarded her long dress and boots and now wore only her thin shift that was becoming increasingly torn with each day._

_She had not stopped in twelve days and even being elven her body was now faltering from lack of food and drink. She closed her eyes as she tried to find re-summon the courage that had carried her these past days and found only the horrible faces smeared with blood that had belonged to those appointed to protect her. She was not from Middle-earth and had dwelt nowhere but the Grey Havens and had no idea how to reach Rivendell on her own._

_They had hunted her like a stag, fifty of them at least. She was careful and stayed in the trees but there were so many. Just when she thought that she had left the last of them behind, another appeared. Her delicate ears caught the sound of her latest pursuer and she forced herself to stand and continue running with the speed that only elves possess. It had become impossible for her to keep her balance in the trees any longer and as she ran the forest spun._

_The sound of her purser's hooves pounded in her ears like drums of war and she knew that she could not hope to outrun his mount. He had spotted her and blown an obnoxious sounding horn and she heard others coming from all directions. She felt an overwhelming terror as she pushed herself with every last ounce of strength she had, but knowing somehow that it would not be enough. Five were merely a length behind her, three more coming from the left, two more from the right, seven more in the direction she ran. They had her._

_She knew before she began, that she was falling, and that she would not have the strength to stand. The riders stopped and one walked towards her. Her body felt numb from pain and she could not seem to get enough air as he knelt at her side. There was no intention of kindness in his movement that she could plainly see, and felt fear as she had never known as he laughed snidely at her as the forest around her was plunged into a silent darkness._

_

* * *

_

_Her pale skin was streaked with mud and dried blood from the uncountable blows, kicks, whips, and searing burns that decorated her body. She could not guess how long she had been here, locked in this room, hidden from the light of day. At first she had been made to work the fields as all his other slaves, but having received a little nourishment she regained enough strength to finish the impossible task load he gave her. She had then been thrown in here, kept without food, and beaten whenever he fancied she deserved it._

_She was rendered blind as he opened the small door and closed it behind him with a resounding thud. He smiled at her and it sent a shiver of fear down her spine. It angered him that no matter the pain he caused her he could not cause her to scream, she knew it and that is why she would not scream. She would not give him the satisfaction, but something was different this time. He brought nothing that he could pain her with beyond any knowledgeable sensation; he brought no guard to keep her from resisting him._

_He smiled at her horribly, walking slowly towards her. At one time she knew that his smile would have brought burning animosity, but here in this small room, starved and beaten it brought only terror. He saw her terror as she cowered from him in a corner, and his smile grew even wider. This is what he had been hoping for she knew, but her fear of men had become_ _an instinct, a reflex and she could do nothing to contain it._

_He stepped quickly towards her, pressing her up against the wall, his face nearly touching her own. Her stomach clenched with fear as he spoke words that she could not understand before pressing his mouth against hers hard. His tongue had forced its way into her mouth and was choking her, she beat her hands against him using her last strength to fight him but he only pressed against her harder._

_His hands began to wander, sending ice through her veins, his hands cold and clammy like that of an orc. He pressed, groped and tore at her for what seemed like an eternity before her paused for breath. He drew his knife and she hoped that it was over, sighing at the thought that he might just kill her and end it now. It was not so. Torturously slowly he slit the thin dress she had been given from the neck down. She knew that she was crying now, her sobs providing him with some delight. He threw the knife aside and pulled her dress from her, kissing her once more and pressing against her hard._

_She moved in protest, her sobs muffled against his horrible mouth as he trailed lower and lower leaving her mouth for the moment. She felt inhuman. He had already removed his own clothes and she closed her eyes, not wishing for that sight to be forever imprinted in her immortal memory. He leaned close and she trembled as he whispered in her ear before becoming wholly absorbed in his game. He picked her up and she knew now that he would not stop. She knew now that he would steal from her something that could never be returned. Her tears burned her face as she screamed into the darkness of that stone room. Screamed until she had no voice. Screamed as heshattered her spirit._

* * *

Aragorn woke suddenly and completely from where he had fallen asleep in the chair beside the bed. The sun had risen and set once more while he kept his vigil over her, keeping his promise not to leave her side. It took a moment for his senses to take in his surroundings and he heard again a sound that chilled his heart in a way that the Nine had never done. Saeorii, thrashed on the bed, fighting the unseen enemy of her dreams and he immediately moved towards her to try and awaken her. Her screams continued as he spoke to her in elvish and tried to calm her struggles. They were hollow and haunting and told of true fear like few had ever known; they were the cries of a tortured heart and a broken spirit and terror worse than Sauron had had in his power to inflict.

* * *

She screamed. She began to pull herself from her memories, realizing that someone was next to her. She fought against them, seeing them as one of the tormentors from her dreams. The person held their arms around her loosely letting her fight but keeping her from running. Then she heard his voice. 

"Please, Saeorii. I mean you no harm. Leave those that frighten you in the darkness you have left behind."

His voice was calm, and he spoke in elvish. She ceased her struggling, but stiffened as she realized that he held her in his arms. He dropped his arms, sensing that she now knew who he was, but he did not push her away. Her whole body shook like the last leaves in the first storm of winter and she felt weak. Her body was ice as if her master's terrible hands were still there and she could not shake his voice from her mind for now she understood what he had said, and it was burned into her mind.

She did not know when they had came there, but his arms now held her against him, her head resting on his broad chest. She tensed and waited for the wave of terror to come crashing over her, but it did not. His arms seemed to force warmth and life into her deathly cold limbs. Her violent shaking was now only shivers, and she found her racing heart now following the calm rhythm of his own. The words of her former master's were mere whispers now, the coldness of their hands gone. She felt something she had not felt since she was taken from the elves. She felt something that she had never known or felt among men. She felt safe.

To be continued...

Estel-Ara: Sorry about this one, but sometimes things have to get worse before they get better. Following chapters should be a little less intense, but I had to tell a little about what had happened to Saeorii before the rest and some of the earlier stuff would really make sense.

Blacksand: Thank you so much and I hope that you continue to read my story. We'll see if he'll be able to help her.


	7. Love And Time

Chapter Seven: Love And Time 

Aragorn leaned against the stone railing that ran at waist height around the large balcony of their main chambers. He remembered how frail and light she had felt as he lay her gently down when he left the bedroom short minutes ago. He had noticed in the past week that she ate very little, but had thought it only because of her bruised face. He wondered now if it was perhaps because after years of starvation her body could handle only the small amounts that she ingested. He bowed his head and let the light winds tangle his unruly hair around his tanned face.

"It is unbearable to think of it, is it not?" he heard the wizard ask as he opened the door and joined him in the early morning air. They stood in silence for a long time before he answered.

"Yes." he paused, struggling with his words, "Gandalf, I want so much to help her but I fear that I ruined any chance I had when I, I," he could not finish.

"She has forgiven you, has she not?"

"Well, yes but,"

"Would you question it if I or Legolas forgave you of some act," the wizard interrupted and continued on without waiting for the answer of his question, "No, you would not. It is not fair to question it of her either. If she says that she has forgiven you than she has."

"Who is she Gandalf? How is it that you know her?"

Beside him his companion sighed deeply before answering.

"Truly, Aragorn, I know not who she is. No one in all of Middle-earth knows who she truly is. She was found by the elves of Grey Haven, washed up amid the wreckage of a ship of men. Who she was before then, and where she came from we never learned for her memory was taken from her and last I knew it had not returned. She could not even remember her own name, poor child. She had to be taught to speak Sindarin for she could speak no words to those who found her. She dwelt with Cirdan for two hundred years before she was taken." His voice was thick as he continued. "She had never left Mithlond before. She wished to go Rivendell and learn the art of healing from your father. She never made it. Those with her were found, dead. She did not know the land and so had little hope of finding her way there. By the time we began to worry, she was probably already taken. Elves from all realms searched; are probably still searching for the Lost Lady. Your brothers and Legolas were perhaps the most devoted of her searchers though, for Cirdan had hoped that she would find love with one of them and they always blamed themselves in part."

"He would be most disappointed to know that I am whom she is bound to."

"I should think not!"

Aragorn looked up at the wizard, startled by his sudden harsh tone.

"You think far too little of yourself, Aragorn. That has always been your greatest fault."

"Too little of myself? Gandalf, do you not understand what it is that I have done? I hit her Gandalf! I have never hit anyone, not even my brothers! I am a mere man, Gandalf; heir of him who failed to destroy the ring that nearly destroyed all that I hold dear. Little good can be done by me."

"Aragorn, look at me." Gandalf paused, waiting until he had done so to continue. "You are not Isildor. Yes, his blood flows through your veins but so does that of his father before him, who was a great man. Vala, you are the descendant of Elros, brother of Elrond. Do you think he is weak also? You faced the temptation of the ring. For Valar's sake Aragorn, Frodo offered you the ring! He opened his hand and you could have taken it and he would not have stopped you, but you did not take it. You passed a test that few have ever faced, and even fewer have overcome. There is hope yet for men. The men of your line shall be great indeed, that is very plain to me and I wish that it were to you," he finished as he turned away from the man in frustration.

Aragorn smiled fondly at the wizard's anger. Gandalf was not one for giving compliments lightly and he knew it was not likely that he should ever hear such high praise from him again. The wizard's words were unexpected, and Aragorn felt himself somewhat unworthy of them, but he knew better than to tell Gandalf so. He placed a hand on the wizard's shoulder.

"Hannon le, mellon nin," he spoke softly, before turning his attention to the people who were beginning to stir below.

There was sadness, a fear about them. A sound that he longed to hear from them painfully lacking. Their laughter. His visits to Gondor before the War of the Ring had revealed a strong and happy people. They were still strong, but they were no longer happy and he knew that it was his own doing. They feared their king. Their king had shown no joy, and people are only as good as the king who leads them. Things would have to change, he told himself firmly, already wondering what immediate measures could be taken to improve their state of being but his thoughts were drawn once again to the lady who lay in the next rooms.

"I wish to help her, Gandalf, but I know not how to start. She is afraid of me, and I might add rightfully so."

"Have you retained nothing that you learned during your years among the elves?"

Aragorn was not sure what to make of the wizard's answer, which really was not much of an answer at all. His thoughts however were suddenly drawn to Lord Elrond, who had raised him and taught him more than any other. He was drawn into a memory that was suddenly as clear as if he were living it again. A memory of his childhood.

_"I am a great healer, but I am by no means the greatest, Estel. There are two much greater than I." Aragorn remembered being puzzled by his words for at that young age he could think of no other in Middle-earth who could surpass his foster father. "One is time, which takes with its passing the sharpness of the pain we endure. It fades those memories that need to be forgotten and returns to us those that need to be remembered again."_

_"Like what Ada?" he remembered asking._

_"Like laughter and sunshine, flowers and all the beautiful things on the earth. Those who have made our life better and those whose lives we have helped make better ourselves."_

_"Oh, I see," he had answered, although he remembered not totally understanding, but it seemed to him that he ought to agree for Elrond was always right._

_"The greatest though, Estel, is love. Love is an incredibly powerful thing, especially among elves. It has the power to heal even the greatest of pains. Love does not barge in; it stands gently waiting, always offering help and healing but never forcing. Love is patient. Love is caring for someone enough that you would forsake your own needs for theirs. Love is crying when someone cries. Love is drying their tears and making them laugh. Love is more powerful than any of us and yet it is gentleness that makes it so strong, not forcefulness such as we most often relate to strength. Do you understand?"_

He remembered nodding, not understanding but trusting that someday this knowledge would be needed. This was the day; he felt it in his heart as he looked back at Gandalf.

"The greatest healers are love and time," he stated in elvish and was rewarded with a knowing smile from Gandalf.

"Perhaps you were listening to your fathers lectures better than we supposed," he stated laughing softly as he lit his pipe.

Aragorn turned to watch the sunrise. It was a dawn in more ways than one. He knew now that he would fulfill the promise he made the day that he accepted the crown of Gondor. He would rule with all the wisdom that he possessed, and care for each as if they were his brother; for that is what Boromir hailed him with his last breath. Brother and King; he only hoped that someday he would be worthy to be hailed such once more.

* * *

She had lain in the dark, listening to the strong beating of his heart. She did not feel terror, but she still could not, despite any desire she possessed, allow herself to fall asleep in his arms. She had feigned sleep though and as she had hoped; his even breathing told her that he had found sleep. She had tried to relax as he moved her so that he could rise, but her heart was pounding so loud that she was sure that he could see it through her dress, but he had not seemed to notice. She had fallen asleep almost as soon as he left, exhausted by her nightmares and tears, but now with the sun high in the sky she felt somewhat rested and so rose to seek out Gandalf.

She brushed her hair which had become loose during her struggles, looking in the mirror as she did so. The only sign of his hand was now the deep gash that had been left by the ring of Barahir; she touched it gently and flinched. She sighed as she twisted her long raven hair and pinned it to her head, longing to wear it free as she had during her days in Mithlond, but knowing that the council would not appreciate the reminder that she was one of the firstborn. They feared what they had not known, for elves had been rarely seen in Gondor since the Last Alliance, or so Maeve had told her. They now saw elves as distant, great creatures still favoured by the Valar above men; they were jealous.

They need be jealous of her least of all for she felt herself an elf no longer. For years before and never again since the night she held the broken king; the calaquendi had been hidden within, taken by men much akin to those who feared her now. No light came from her, nor song. She could no longer raise her voice and have it answered by the wind, trees, rivers or creatures. They had taken that also. The gift of wisdom, of special knowing, of speaking to minds, of bringing warmth with her touch; all such things had been taken from her. An elf indeed. No elf stood here staring into the cold surface of the mirror, only the shadow of what had once been.

A small tear trailed down her pale face but she did not move to wipe it away. Some things she could not even tell Gandalf. Some grief would only be hers alone just as she had been alone so many years with men. The cold stones of the palace that became her prison told only of the sorrows of those great ones who had been held there before and soon even their voices had become silent. She hurt from the silence around her; it was pounding as if threatening to beat her to the ground.

"Saeorii."

She shirked away from the wizards touch, backing against the wall and squeezing her eyes shut. His voice had been soft but it hurt like thunder amid the silence that surrounded her. Her heart beat within her chest at an unhealthy rate for an elf, and her gulping breaths told the wizard of the fear that she herself could not say. She felt his old hand gentle against her soft skin and looked up at him through her burning tears. He looked at her with pity, with remorse, with guilt.

"My fate is no fault of yours, Gandalf," she whispered meekly as he knelt on the floor in front of her.

"Nor is it yours," he told her sternly as he cupped the side of her face with his hand and felt her jaw tense.

"I ride tonight, I am afraid that I have stayed longer than I planned. I leave you here in the best of hands." He smiled at her sadly seeing her doubt. "There is honour among men, and you dwell among the greatest. They are, as are you and I, imperfect and some hearts have been swayed by forces more powerful than they, but do not fear. He will let nothing harm you. Your sight may be dimmed, but you can see as well as I that the shadow that was upon him is no more."

He wiped her tears with a silk cloth and pulled her to her unsteady feet. His heart was filled with affection for her and he almost did not leave her, but he knew it to be for the best. Slowly, he took her face in his hands, his eyes not leaving her own dark ones. As he leaned forward and kissed her forehead she felt his tear fall amongst her own. She wrapped her arms around him tightly like a small and frightened child and he took her in his arms, hiding her if only for a moment from the things that haunted her.

* * *

Aragorn's eyes took a moment to adjust to the darkness of the outside as he left the bright lights of the palace. Maeve had come to his council, nearly in tears because her lady was not in their rooms; nor after searching could she find her anywhere in the palace. Faramir had immediately volunteered to lead the guards in searching the entire palace. Something, though, told him to go outside and he felt a panic he had not realized had overcome him dissipate as he saw her small shape against the dark sky.

The moon was bright but he noticed with a wave of compassion that she did not shine. He wondered what it was that she watched so intently from the white tower and approached her in the growing winds that threatened a spring storm. He stood beside her and saw the white figure as he rode from the gates below. He watched as a silver tear ran down her face as the night sky grew darker and clouded around them and the white figure could no longer be seen.

She was shivering but he doubted that she noticed. He took the cloak from his own shoulders and moved to fasten around hers but stopped as he saw her stiffen and shrink away from him. Instead he gave it to her and like an obedient child she fastened it around herself. Lightning brightened the dark sky and thunder boomed and his concern for the hastening storm was growing. She seemed more at ease though than he had ever seen her. He stepped closer so that she could hear him over the howling winds.

* * *

She did not want to leave. Now that she had left the palace and felt the wind and seen the skies she did not ever want to leave them. Gandalf had told her to trust the king, and there was something about him that said she could despite his previous actions. His touch did not repulse her, in fact it spread warmth through her body, numb from abuse, but her fear of men was bred to deep. Years had shown her only their cruelty, nothing of the valour and honour that Gandalf had spoke of.

"My Lady, I know that you fear those that dwell within my walls more than the storm that threatens you now," despite her fears his words caused her to look towards him, though she could not meet his gaze, "but I promise that as long as I live, no one shall ever harm you again. I wish to aid you in any way that I can, no matter how small. Gandalf told me some of you, of what you once were; what you can be again. Please, if you never do another act because of my wishes, do this one tonight and come with me inside."

Rain had begun to fall sharply, showing none of the signs of spring that had been present in the past few days; the last blow of winter. His voice rang true in her ears, and implored her to trust him. He had spoken in elvish; the language that she had not spoke since she was taken, under threat of death. She remembered struggling to learn the harsh tongue of men and feeling no less fear when she knew what it was that her tormentors shouted at her. Their harsh words were forced from her mind by another crash of thunder and she realized that he stood offering his arm, shivering from the winds while she was warm in his cloak.

With only the slightest tremor she placed her hand on his arm and let him lead her quickly to the palace. The door was quickly shut behind them and one of the guards moved to take her soaked cloak. She braced herself involuntarily.

"Do not," the king ordered quietly in a warning tone, and the guard stepped back to his place.

She was surprised by the king's awareness of her fear to have any man near her, and felt an overwhelming gratitude for his small, but significant action. It meant more to her than she felt that she could express in words as they made their ways through the halls that were silent except for the rain.

"Hannon le," she whispered words that felt foreign to her, but wondrous for they were in her tongue.

She said it as if towards his actions of a moment ago, but she felt he knew that it was for so much more.

To be continued...

enyamorntulir: Thanks so much! I love to have people tell me they like my story although I don't think anyone's ever told me that I rock, thanks and kudos to you too! I definately think that he needs to be shared.

Estel-Ara: Thanks so much, you're certainly a help in the confidence area1 I love hearing from you!

Amelia: Thanks once again for you encouragement, I always love to hear from everyone to see what their thinking! Computers can be a royal pain though.

Hwena: Thanks, I thought so too. I really didn't want to just totally kick Arwen out without giving her a plausible reason for being gone and I didn't want Aragorn to just leave her for some other girl so here we are. Thanks again!

Viggomanaic: That's alright, I know that you are reading. I really hated making Aragorn seem like the bad guy too and I'm enjoying portraying him as a good guy much better.Thank you so much for you review!

Telacontar: Thank you very much, I'm flattered. I know, I didn't like making him into a bad guy either but it's not as if he were totally to blame I mean he lost Arwen. Oh well, he's back now to stay. Thanks, luv hearing from you!


	8. Never

Chapter Eight: Never 

Aragorn watched all that went on around him subconsciously as he walked the busy streets of Gondor. He had excused himself from council for his thoughts were too much occupied to do any of the good he now so wanted to do for the people of his kingdom. He wore his worn clothes that he had last worn during his time with the Fellowship; he wished not to be seen for who he was. He had appeared little to the people of Gondor and knew unless he was dressed as such they would not likely guess him to be the king.

He had slept well last night, going to bed only after Maeve assured him that Saeorii was asleep and would not be disturbed by him. He wondered at her ability to hide what had been done to her; the fear that he had seen only a small part of the night when he held her after her nightmare. She had shared a bed with a man not unlike those that had torn and taken her body as they wished. He could not imagine what she felt and wished more and more that he could if only it would help him to ease her pain.

At breakfast this morning she had been little different than the weeks before. She spoke little and never raised her eyes to meet his but there was something slightly different in her voice. It seemed a little more elvish to him; he couldn't quite explain it but it had lightened his heart a little. Elves voices were so different from any other. He was shaken from his thoughts as he noticed a man and woman struggling to raise the tent from which they would sell their wares that were held by their young children. The others around them ignored them, wishing to fend for themselves and he felt slightly angry at them for doing so and walked towards the family himself.

"Good morning to you, my lord, my lady," he greeted warmly as he reached over the woman's head and steadied the post with which she had been struggling, "might I be of service to you?"

"I would thank you graciously, my lord," answered the broad shouldered man as his timid wife smiled shyly.

Aragorn help to secure the tent and took the heaviest baskets from the children who could barely stand at their load.

"Are you from here?" he asked as they set their things on the rickety table.

"Yes, my lord. I was born here and my wife and I returned when we were told that a king had finally come. They say that he marched to the black gates himself. Everyone said that he would be glorious, but I am afraid he has let the council continue to have their way," the man seemed grieved by this.

Aragorn was not insulted by the man for he knew he was unaware that he spoke to the king and he also knew that what the man said was true. He had begun only two weeks ago to say anything at all in councils; he had in fact let them have their way. It was only recently though that he realized things were very different from when the last king sat on the throne and made the laws that the councillors still held to with a death grip and that some things would need to be changed. He returned his attention to the family before them as they unwrapped what the youngest child called breakfast; it was no more than three stale, hard rolls.

"Is that all you have?" he asked quietly, not wanting to embarrass them but the man blushed and he knew that it was. "Why is it that your meal is so meagre?"

"Lord Denethor outlawed all trade with the other kingdoms and villages when the first attack on Osgilioth was launched, for our own safety. The king has not bothered to reinstate them. Any food that is still left in the city is given to him and his council," the man did not seem bitter, but merely stated what was.

"I was not aware," Aragorn muttered thoughtfully.

He had not even realized what he had said until he felt all seven of them staring at him in fear and awe. He bowed slightly; not enough to draw attention but enough to say that he paid them a great courtesy.

"Please forgive me, for until late my grief has blinded me to the grief of my people."

"King Elessar," breathed the man in astonishment.

"Can you see now, someone make you all better?" asked the littlest child.

Aragorn heard her parents gasp at their child's blatant and rather personal remark but he paid no mind. He knelt so that he could look into her face and smiled slightly.

"Yes, little one," he answered, "My eyes were opened by a beautiful elven lady."

The child's eyes grew wide, for to most in Gondor elves had become myths. Some were awed by them; others wary and untrusting and it was obvious to him that the child was of the first group. He bid them good day, his thoughts now more preoccupied than ever as he strode quickly back towards the palace.

* * *

"I do not understand you!" cried Faramir in exasperation; the councillors looked at him in surprise unaccustomed to this behaviour from their young steward. "We have said the words until 'the Great King shall return,' for many years and now that he is you seek to undermine him at every turn! I do not understand," he stated again as he buried his face in his hands.

"Do not despair so, my good Faramir."

All looked, surprised to hear the quiet voice of their king. He was dressed as when he was a Ranger and for the first time Faramir saw the unsavoury and war weary man that Eowyn said Aragorn had been when he first went to Edoras. It was easy now to picture a menacing looking figure, face hidden in the dark hood of his cloak, sword ever present at his side. He felt a slight tremor of fear but quickly told himself that there was no need that this was the same man he had come to so respect and care for, yet his heart would not heed him and continued to thump relentlessly against his chest. All moved to stand and the king did not motion them to sit as usual, instead he came to stand next to Faramir and looked at each councillor searchingly; few could hold his steely gaze for more than a moment before looking away.

"What must be done to feed my people?"

Faramir was unaware of what he spoke but watched as the councillors seemed to shrink back as far away from the king as they could without leaving their seats. They knew very well of that which he spoke.

"What must be done?" he questioned more earnestly.

"Notice must be given to those who provide us with food that the gates of Gondor are now open to them," spoke an older councillor timidly.

"See that it is done," he stated coldly, "or it shall be you that goes without food." He paused and Faramir felt the king's eyes fall upon him. "Faramir, please, come with me, I wish to speak with you on other matters that need your attention."

Faramir nodded silently, still slightly overwhelmed by the great presence he had felt and seen radiating from the king. Though he wore not a crown nor held any sceptre there was no doubt in his mind, or the mind of any other present at the moment, that Aragorn son of Arathorn was indeed the king.

* * *

Maeve sighed as she took her place in a chair next to the fire in the king's main chambers while the sad queen walked onto the balcony. She for the first time since the elf's arrival, been able to coax her out for a walk through the palace halls. She had talked of things past and things to come as if all were normal but she had not failed to notice the tremors that shook the queen's small form the entire time of their walk. The halls had been nearly empty but Saeorii was constantly tense, bracing herself for an attack that Maeve could not convince her would not come. She glanced out at her, the poor girl's cheeks not brightened by the shining sun.

The wind blew, bringing with it the first sweetness of spring but then it moved slightly and the foulness of Mordor tainted it.

"I cannot," she heard the queen whisper.

"What is it, my lady?"

* * *

Saeorii heard Maeve's plaintive question but could not answer her. She had been startled to hear the soft, languid voice of the wind for she had not heard its whispers, good or ill all the time she had been held by men. She had answered aloud instead of in the ways of elves at first because she had been so unused to its call but it lulled her into a sense of peace she had not felt in years. It was familiar and carried the tangy scent of the sea beside which she had dwelt for two hundreds years in Mithlond.

_Please, sing for us_, it pleaded, _nearly a year it has been since the voices of the elves have been raised in this place. The whispers of Mordor are fading but still linger._

_My heart is no longer pure. I can no longer sing in the way of my kin_, she answered it feeling a deep shame creep into her soul.

_Your heart still holds pureness. Your memories and knowing have only been forgotten, but they can be remembered. Sing to us your sorrows and let us take them far from you as far as the sky is from the sea._

She gasped feeling the wondrous forgotten feeling of the four winds as they swirled around her, singing their own song and slowly raised her voice to join them. At first she sang and knew it held nothing of the Eldar but soon she felt something stir within her and it rose forth like the swell of the mighty waves as tears fell like rain from her dark eyes.

* * *

"I would be glad to go to the Council for you, Aragorn, although I fail to see what good I may," Faramir paused when Aragorn raised his hand, listening hard.

In the silence of the palace there rose a beautiful sound like nothing ever heard by him before. Aragorn felt tears choke him though he would not let them fall. Faramir however wept openly; the sorrow they heard almost tangible and Aragorn found himself searching the hall around them for some glimpse of it, although of course he found none.

"Only the elves could sing with such voices, although I fear Legolas and your brothers pale in comparison," Faramir paused listening intently, "What is she saying?"

Aragorn took a breath, trying to steady his voice before answering.

"Her song is not of words, for it is of a sorrow so deep, that not even elves can speak it," he said knowing that Faramir was aware of a little of Saeorii's past and would ask no more.

* * *

Only the winds echoes of her voice still lingered when he came to stand beside her. Her back stiffened and he watched her tense more with each step he took towards her. He touched her shoulder gently, feeling her muscles jump at his touch but he did not move his hand. Her breaths slowed and he knew she was forcing herself not to shake as her knuckles turned white from her grip on the railing.

"Of what do you sing, my lady?" he prodded gently in Sindarin. She remained silent. "Pain is more easily borne when it is shared."

Silence fell between them for so long that he believed that she would not answer him and he would not force her.

"I can't," she whispered in the same language he had spoken, "It would be like living it all again; all alone in darkness. I can't."

"Aye, my lady," he answered quietly as he tilted her chin so that he could see into her face although she would not look into his eyes, "but you will never be alone again; I will be here with you until the end of my days that, I swear to you."

* * *

His hand sent warmth through her entire body and she longed to have the courage to look into his eyes, to move into his embrace without hesitating but she could not. Her fears lay too deep. She felt herself go rigid as he slowly moved his hand to the base of her neck and led her head to rest upon his broad chest. Her heart thundered like Rauros in her ears, fear causing her breaths to come rapid and shallow. His other arm rested lightly against her back; he did not let go and she couldn't bear to pull away knowing the coldness would be sharper when he moved away.

She closed her eyes and concentrated on her breathing, forcing herself to take deep calming breaths. Slowly her shaking ceased and her heart did not pain her with its frantic pace. He did not move but continued to stand waiting; it seemed he intended to wait forever, for her to relax. The beating of her own heart had sufficiently diminished that she could hear his own close to her head. It beat slowly, steadily, stronger than the quick light heartbeats of the elves.

She realized that his tunic was not like the velvet ones he usually wore; it was rough and worn but it smelled familiar. It smelt of pipe weed, of Gandalf and of the forests and the plains.

* * *

Her body was now at ease as she released a soft sigh and he smiled. She tensed only for a moment as he stroked her soft hair and then was again staid, no longer seeming trapped by fear beneath his strong arms. The wind blew his hair from his face and carried her wondrous scent to him and he longed to brush his lips against her petal-like cheek but did not and contented himself with her warmth and the slight pressure of her light form against him. He marvelled at how seeing her serene made him feel so at peace as he felt the tight muscles in his body unwind.

"Never will I leave you," he whispered softly so that only her elvish ears could hear, "Never."

To be continued...

Shary22: Thank you so much for your encouraging review and I hope that you continue to read my story.

Jedi Padfoot: Thank you very much and I am glad to hear that you like my other story as well. There quite different but I really like the way that both of them are turning out. This one is going to be shorter than the other though, by quite a bit, oh well. Thank you again!

Karone Evertree: Short, and sweet. Thank you so much. Even little reviews like that make my whole day!

Telacontar: I am glad that you aprove and I feel so sorry for her too. I like Aragorn much better when he's caring like this than at the first of the story. I didn't like him being a bad guy. Oh well hope to continue to hear from you. Thank you so much!


	9. An End to the Darkness And A Safe Return

Chapter nine: An End to the Darkness And A Safe Return 

"I am still unsure of why it is that you have picked me, Aragorn," Faramir restated from his place in a cushioned chair opposite the king.

The steward seemed to be totally unaware of his own greatness and having been the less favoured of Denethor's sons had not improved his opinion. Aragorn, however, believed that he was as great a man as his fallen brother, perhaps greater, and wished the younger man to see it as well. Faramir would leave at early the next morning with the Rangers of Ithilien who had lingered in Gondor for the winter to help repair damages and keep guard after the great loss of the Battle of Pelannor Fields. They had been content for the winter but now were all anxious to be free from the walls of stone with the first signs of spring. He understood their longing quite well for he himself felt the wilderness calling him, having never dwelt in one place for long and certainly never in a great city of stone.

He longed for the company of the elves. He was unused to men although he had dwelt among them for some time as Thorongil; he had never been restricted to the city. He longed to see his brothers and father again but he felt he could not face them. He blamed himself for Arwen's fading and knew also that if they knew of his behaviour since her death they would think much less of him and he could not bear it. He would not be so completely alone, he mused, if he had not chased off Legolas and Gimli; a feat which he knew had taken great neglect, for both were stubborn.

He would miss Faramir in the coming weeks for he had become a great friend in the short time since the shadow had passed from him. He would not be left alone though; Saeorii would remain. He still found it strange how her very presence brought him comfort and ease although he did not allow himself that pleasure often for he knew his presence brought her only fear. He sighed deeply and returned his attention to Faramir, realizing that he had left the stewards question unanswered.

"I am sending you to the council because I believe that you are best suited to go. You have a respect for the elves that is painfully absent among those of my kingdom and for the most part those of my council." He reached over and laid his hand on the younger man's shoulder, "I trust you to act in the interests of Gondor and that you will not betray me in the process."

Aragorn watched as the weight of his words brought a frown to the Gondorians face, obviously fearing that he would disappoint him or fail in his task altogether.

"Besides, it would do you good to see Rivendell and learn more of the elves. Legolas told me that you sought to learn much about them from him while he was here."

"Have you spoken to him since," Faramir politely left his question unfinished and Aragorn sighed deeply.

"Nay, I know not if he is even aware of what has transpired here since his leaving. I would not blame him if he did not care."

"He cares, my lord. Many letters have I received from him, asking of your well being." Aragorn looked up, startled by this revelation. "I have said little and have not written since the Foreign Council," Faramir quietly continued, kindly omitting the raising of the king's hand against his queen, "he knows only that you have married. I did not even tell him that she was elvish. I thought it not my place to tell your friend of things that are your own to tell."

"Thank you, my friend," Aragorn whispered quietly as he gazed out the window, noticing the first grey light of dawn. They had talked the entire night.

* * *

She woke in a cold sweat, choking back a sob so that she would not wake the king. Her heart raced, but she sensed that no one lay beside her and so she sat up. The blankets pooled around her and she let them fall for the night was warm. She wrapped her arms around her knees and allowed herself the freedom of heaving sobs that tore deep in her chest. There was no one there to hear her. No one there to comfort her; she could not let them.

She knew if she asked him he would hold her until her tears were spent. She knew if she wished that he would listen as she told the horrors of her past. She knew if she let him he would take her to him and kiss away her tears. She felt such guilt that she could not react to his gentle kindness with anything other than fear. She wished she could let him touch her without remembering what they had done and pulling away. She shrank from his touch as if his hands would burn her like the hot irons that had seared her tender skin in years past.

Her past loomed suddenly out of the darkness and she shook with fear as she leapt unsteadily from her bed and drew back the thick drapes, wishing for even the smallest bit of light to chase away the night. She clung to the velvet fabric so she would not fall and felt her fears subside as she saw the waning moon sliding towards the black earth. She released the curtain and stood shaking as she leaned against the cool pane of glass that separated her from the world outside. She lifted her hand to trace one of the patterns in the glass and reminded herself dismally that she had lost her elvish light; for all she knew it would never return.

Truly, she should have died in that moment when her first master took her for himself, using her body for his pleasure. She could still remember how she had begun to slip away, towards the peace of Aman. If not for her promise to Cirdan.

The great and wise elf had not just offered her sanctuary in Mithlond, but welcomed her into his house and treated her as his daughter. Her first remembrances were of him and his realm, so quiet and safe, nestled next to the great and mighty sea that had thrown her upon the shores of Middle-earth. He only asked one thing of her: that she dwell in Middle-earth until the time came when he could sail to Valinor. She doubted that at the time he had known any more than she what a grievous thing it was that he asked and how much she would suffer in order to keep her promise, but she had kept it. Only now she was afraid to see him. Afraid of what he would think of her. Afraid that he would see it in her eyes; the terrible things they had done to her. Afraid that he would dismiss her, blame her, look down on her in disgust and shame; the thought brought back the tears and she slid slowly towards the floor, feeling as if all her strength were gone.

* * *

"My lady, are you alright?" Aragorn questioned as he moved towards her quickly as he dared, afraid that she was hurt or ill.

She looked up at him startled, obviously not having heard him enter, and in the second before she realized who he was and looked down at the floor once more, he saw it all. The raw pain, the fear, the guilt, the shame, the loneliness, and the longing despite her fears to be comforted. He now stood beside her in the dim morning light and watched as she trembled and hugged her knees to her chest. Slowly he knelt beside her; her dark hair fell around her hiding her face from him but his chest ached with tenderness towards this frightened lady.

He knew no words to convey what he wished to say to her. He knew not how to tell her that he loved her more than any other. He knew not how to tell her that her gentle presence was more crucial to his existence than the very air he breathed. He knew not how to tell her that he wanted to share her pain. He knew not how to tell her that he wished to teach her what it meant to live again. To smile and to laugh again, as he knew she must have. To love again. He would give his entire kingdom if only she could look at him and return even a small amount of what he felt for her.

There were no words and so silently he reached out to touch her pale face.

* * *

She felt her body seize with fear as he cupped her face tenderly in his rough hands. Her heart raced as he moved closer and closer to her but she could not move. Her breath caught in her throat as she felt him gently kiss her forehead, lingering only long enough for her to remember the feeling for as long as she lived, before pulling away again. His hands did not leave her face and after a few moments she ventured to look up at him and could not fathom what she saw; tears coursed unchecked down his tanned cheeks as he looked at her with emotions and feelings that no words could express.

For a moment her terror vanished as she looked without fear into his piercing silver eyes that shone bright with tears. Tears for her and her pain. She let him take her into his strong arms and she did not shake with fear but revelled in his warmth. She laid her head against his broad chest and listened to his strong heartbeat. She felt his every breath and slowed her breathing so that it matched his own. She would have thought that time had ceased to flow for all but them were it not for the brightness of the ever rising sun as it cast its warm rays down on the dwellers of Middle-earth, promising an end to the darkness of the night.

* * *

The sun still shone brightly later that morning upon the empty city as she rode silently beside him. Her knuckles were white as she clung to the saddle beneath her knowing that soon the eyes of all the people of Gondor would be upon her. She longed to feel a horse beneath her and ride in the fashion of elves but had not had the courage to ask it of the king. She would ride out with the king, as was custom, to bid the Rangers farewell. He was silent but she sensed his presence and drew some comfort from that. The sound of the horses step was hollow on the stones as they reached the gate and the two guards that rode ahead of them stopped to open it.

"Do not fear, my lady," he spoke to her quietly in Sindarin, "you shall not be made to leave my side."

She knew he realized that no amount of words could overcome a fear that had haunted her for years but somehow they comforted her; perhaps because it was he who spoke them. She took a deep breath as she heard him urge his mount into a trot and nudged hers to follow. A wall of guards was all that separated them from the unending sea of bodies and created a path towards where Faramir stood with his Rangers mounted behind him, ready to follow wherever he would lead them.

* * *

Faramir had looked up at the sound of the opening of the gates and watched as the king and queen rode forward, those bearing the flags of the white tree a short distance behind. He heard the murmur of the citizens of his city; this was the first many had seen of their fair elven queen for only the highest class had been present at her coronation. He watched the king dismount with the ease of one who has done so for years and then turn to offer his hand to the queen. Faramir noticed that her hands trembled like the last leaves of fall as she landed soundlessly next to the king.

Everyone else had already bowed as the pair passed and he did so only now as they approached him, her frail form staying close that of the king. He marvelled, as he had the time that he first met Legolas, at elves ability to appear calm when strong emotions raged within them. He and the king were the only ones who understood what a great thing it was that she was here among them on this day.

"Rise Lord Steward, and Prince of Ithilien," Aragorn announced loudly, and paused while his friend complied. "Today you lead these men as Captain and I say that you leave the city with my blessing. I trust you to keep the White City well protected and will look for your safe return."

He stepped forward and gripped Faramir's arm in the embrace of warriors, looking deeply into the young mans eyes. He smiled at him, losing the serious expression that befit the ceremony and embraced him fully, much to the surprise of those who looked on.

"May Eru bless you, and the Valar watch over you, my brother," he spoke quietly before pulling away.

Faramir felt his throat tighten at Aragorn's words and knew there were tears in his eyes as he looked at the king, unable to move or speak. He was surprised further when the queen stepped towards him, taking his steady hand in her trembling one and pressing something cold and smooth in his palm. He looked up at her questioningly and was moved to see that she met his gaze, even if only for a moment. Faramir looked at what had been placed in his hand. A stone as smooth as glass, the colour of a starless night and on it was an elvish rune he didn't recognise.

"What does it mean?" he asked quietly, his voice betraying his depth of feeling.

"There is no exact translation into your tongue," the queen answered quietly and Faramir realized how few times he had heard her speak, "but in essence it wishes you strength when you might falter, speed when you might slow, courage when you might fear and that you will return safely no matter how far you must travel."

Faramir looked at Aragorn and saw how much his friend now treasured his wife and felt that he need not fear for her safety.

"Thank you, my queen," he said as he bowed and turned to his horse.

He mounted and paused for a moment, fastening the chain from the stone around his neck before turning to his Rangers, who had been silent. He raised his hand and urged his horse forward, hearing the roar of his men and the thunderous voices of the people of Gondor that echoed over Pelannor fields as it had the last time a battle was fought and won here. His mind however was not on where he was leading them although he made for Ithilien without any thought. His mind lingered on the stone that hung about his neck and the beautiful elleth that had given it to him. His heart was touched that she had thought of him when her own pain was so deep that she flinched at the sound of his voice or that of any other man, save only perhaps the king. He smiled and rode on, the gentle wind brushing away his stray tear and he was glad that his men could not see him, for they would think their captain weak. The stone kept him well and he wore it until the end of his days.

To Be Continued...

Kaone Evertree: Most definately and I agree that it is about time! The others from the fellowship will be in future chapters although I can say that it will be at least a few more before they show up. Sorry, but at least you know that they are coming! Thank you for your reviews, I love hearing from you, you are so enthusiastic!

viggomaniac: I am honored to be added to your list and thanks for all your reviews. I am glad that you are enjoying the slow pace, I was afraid that maybe it was too slow, but I want to develop the relationship between Aragorn and Saeorii before I take another time jump(which is coming althogh it won't be years or anything) anyway, thanks so much for your reviews and look forward to hearing from you in the furture!

Estel-Ara: I really liked the scene with the family too. I put it in to show a little bit how Aragorn's changed and there will be future scenes with others from Gondor as well just to help develop the plot and show the changes.Anyway, thanks for reviewing!

Elariel Erestorian: Yes, I was aware that raping an elleth would kill her. Neglegence on my part for not including that in my story so far and so I added it a litte bit here and will develop the idea in some later chapters. Thank you so much for bringing that to my attention though. I love it when people can help improve my story without totally bashing it for no reason. Thank you so much, I hope that my inaccuracy won't turn you off and that you will continue to read and review. I would love to hear from you again!

Amelia: That's alright and I am glad that you are still enjoying my stories. Thanks!

Tadriendra of Mirkwood: Thank you so much, I'm flattered! Saeorii is beginning to see how much Aragorn cares for her, but after all that has happened it will take time. I think Arwen would understand as well, its not as if Aragorn just lef ther or anything and as much as she is hown to love him, giving up her immortality and all I think that she would want him to be happy above all. Anyway, thank you so much for reviewing and hope to hear from you again!

Good Work: Short answer to a short but encouraging and welcome review. Thanks!


	10. And Yet There Is Hope

Chapter Ten: And Yet There Is Hope 

Aragorn hadn't realized how much he had come to enjoy the quiet company of Faramir after the evening meal. He had also felt his absence strongly in Council this week since his leaving. He knew that he could send for someone; he could ask for anyone in his kingdom if he liked and they would be brought to him without question but somehow that was no comfort to him. He did not simply want someone to listen to him, he wanted someone who would listen and was not afraid to answer him.

He knew though that there was no better man to lead the Rangers of Ithilien or one who would take more care in the repair of the ransacked ruins of Osgilioth and Ithilien than Faramir. He had none of his fathers qualities it seemed except his intelligence, but unlike his father Faramir had a great compassion for his people that Denethor had always lacked. Boromir had been most like his father; always ready to go charging into battle. It was not that Faramir was a coward he just did not get the same rush charging against his foe as his brother or father. Boromir himself had spoken with great pride of his younger brother; claiming there was no better man and Aragorn believed him.

The loss of Boromir had been a great blow to Faramir. The brothers, despite their fathers favour for one and dislike of the other, had been close. He paused in his wandering to look out a window that showed one of the walls that had been crushed by the rock of the orcs catapults; there was still much to be done before the great city of Gondor would be as it once was. At least, he thought smiling sadly; Gimli saw to it that the gates were restored. He walked on.

The hallways were empty as they usually were this time of night; rarely did he meet another living soul in his nightly wandering. For long months after Arwen's death he would wander these halls and see nothing but her; drawing on his every memory to bring her to stand at his side as he had always imagined she would. Lately though, since the night of the foreign council, his thoughts were filled less and less with her and more and more with the others who looked to him to lead them and keep them safe.

More and more often, those of the Fellowship were brought to his mind. The wise wizard, the brave and gentle hobbits, the gruff and hardy dwarf, and Legolas who had been his friend many years before they set out to take the Ring to its end. He sighed deeply wishing he had less pride and were able to ask them all to come to him. Truthfully he wished that he had had the courage to go to the Council himself; the message had said that most of those he wished to see would be there.

He longed to go to his father's realm again and feel its soothing peace but he feared that Elrond would see it in his eyes. See that his memories of Undomiel were fading; he did not forget them. It seemed he remembered every breath he had ever taken at her side and yet they were less sharp. They did not feel as strong; they seemed now only to bring him a feeling of contentment that was painfully absent in certain other parts of his remembrances and he went to them less and less. For although he valued his memories of Arwen no less than before that is what they were; memories. To be cherished for certain, but men could not dwell forever in memories and he knew in his heart that Arwen would not want him to. She would wish him to live and he did not believe that she would harbour him any ill feelings for the one he now longed to have at his side.

He sighed, no longer content as he had once been to wander the halls until he was too tired to think and found himself walking towards his chambers. It was early for him to return to them for he always stayed in the antechamber of the throne room, speaking with Faramir until Maeve told him that Saeorii was asleep. He had read there alone until she came in the evenings since Faramir left but this night he had been restless and could not content himself to sit and read of men and their doings whether foul or fair. He was lonely.

* * *

Maeve looked down at the timid queen who sat on the pelts at her feet as she deftly twisted the long raven hair into a braid. She knew that Saeorii was capable of doing this but she had begun doing it when the poor elleth was too wounded to reach her hands up to brush her hair and had never stopped. It was the same every night. Despite Saeorii's insistence that she was a good deal older than herself, Maeve could never think of her of anything other than a young child. She still found tears when she thought of what had been done to the poor creature. She fastened the braid and let it lay against the back of the deep velvet robe Saeorii wore over her nightgown.

She reached for the thick book that lay on the floor beside her feet and smiled as Saeorii lay down, pillowing her head on her arm. She had only read a few lines though before the beautiful elf sat up. Someone was coming and she knew instantly who it was. It was the king, for his footsteps were the only ones that did not cause the elleth to tremble with fear, although she certainly was not at ease either. She rose as she called for the king to enter when one of the guards knocked softly on the door with hilt of his sword. She bowed her head slightly and he nodded to her before speaking.

"Are you well tonight, Maeve?"

"Aye, your majesty, thank you" she answered as she watched him glance longingly towards the queen.

Maeve knew now that if there would be anyone to relieve Saeorii's fear it would be the king. He stood hands outstretched, like a child that stretches out their hands to a fawn, hoping to coax it within their reach but never moving forward so fast as to startle it away. She could see the love and compassion in the king's eyes and could think of no other she would rather serve.

"I'll leave you for tonight, my lady, if there's nothing else."

* * *

Saeorii felt her pulse quicken slightly as it always did when she was with the king and Maeve was not near. She was silent as Maeve placed the open book in her hands, squeezing her right one; discreetly telling Saeorii she was aware how frightened she was. The king sat down in the chair across from the one Maeve had been sitting in and reached inside his tunic for his pipe. She felt herself relax slightly at its familiar scent, reminding her of Gandalf, as she placed a cloth bookmark in the pages of the thick book.

"Please, do not let my presence keep you from your book," he spoke softly and she could feel him watching her as her cheeks flushed slightly.

"I cannot read it," she told him quietly, "It is written in the common tongue."

She waited for the loud laughter or condemnation for her stupidity but instead she heard him rise from his chair and sit next to her on the floor. She was surprised and lifted her head slightly.

"Forgive me," he spoke so gently that she found herself relaxing further in the absence of the reprimand she had been expecting, "I had forgotten how few of the elves learn to read the common tongue."

She was not sure how to react to his kindness; it was still a thing that was strange to her coming from men. She played with the tassel of the bookmark, slightly uncomfortable, not so much in the silence that had fallen but in his closeness to her. She was surprised when he held out his hands, implying he wished her to give him the book and she did.

"Maeve insisted upon reading it to me. She said that it will explain much of what has gone on while," she stuttered at the reference to her past, and her voice was quieter when she spoke again, "while I was held."

She finished the statement and realized it was the first time she had spoken the words out loud; she had not even spoken them to Gandalf.

"There and Back Again, A Hobbits Tale, by Bilbo Baggins, and The Lord of The Rings, by Frodo Baggins." She was surprised at the deep emotion that had edged his deep voice as he read the last title. "I wondered where this had gotten to," he spoke absently as if he had forgotten she sat beside him. It was this that gave her the courage to speak.

"Do you know of them, my lord?" she asked hesitantly, lest she anger him.

* * *

He chuckled softly before he answered her.

"Aye, I know them both quite well actually. Bilbo I met in Rivendell where he has spent the last of his days," he paused, afraid of her reaction to what he would say next, "and Frodo I," he paused again, "I walked with him. A great friend, he was, and still is I hope. I am Strider or Aragorn, whichever you please to call me."

His eyes had never left her since he entered the room but he was surprised when she returned his gaze and though he could see her apprehension, he took great comfort from her sorrowful dark eyes. Her cheeks were slightly coloured telling him that she was aware of how close he sat beside her and to sooth her uneasiness he turned his attention to the book in his hands but did not move away.

He read to her and it seemed he relived it with every well placed word that Frodo had written to describe their journey. He still marvelled at the hobbit's ability to capture their time in Lorien; to make it real even to those who had never been blessed enough to venture into Caras Galadon. The room grew darker as he read and soon only the light of the dying fire lit the pages that had been written with such great care.

She sat beside him, her chin resting on her knees, hugging her legs and as he watched her from the corner of his eye she seemed to relax. The stiff tension of her frame dissipated little by little and was replaced by a comforting grace only held by the elves. Her hands were no longer clenched as if to keep them from shaking. Her head was not bowed as if a great weight was upon her and there was a light in his eyes that he had never seen before. She sighed; it was an easy sigh of contentment like the coo of a dove and he paused as her beauty hit him with such force to leave him breathless.

She turned to him inquiringly and without a reply he continued to read but soon found his words interrupted by yawns. He let the book rest in his lap, covering his mouth as another yawn took him. He was surprised when she reached out and took the book, marking the page and setting it on Maeve's vacant chair. He looked at her, one eyebrow raised, but she would not meet his gaze and instead seemed fascinated with the stars that hung in the dark sky outside the windows.

"You are tired, my lord. You need rest," she answered his unasked question as she stood, straightening the soft waves of fabric that pooled around her.

"I think I will stay here by the fire for a while longer," he told her, wishing to allow her the time to fall into a deep sleep before sharing the bed with her for he knew his presence there would unnerve her and remind her of things that she wished to forget. He resisted the strong urge to rub his tired eyes as he watched her receding silhouette

"Nay, my lord," she reprimanded quietly as she paused at the bedroom door, and he was secretly thrilled that she felt at ease enough with him to do so, although the tightness of her voice did not go unnoticed to him, "you must sleep or you shall be nodding off in tomorrow's council."

"Perhaps you are right," he assented quietly and stood, adding another log to the fire before following her silent footsteps.

* * *

Aragorn woke the next morning feeling more rested than he had in months, despite the late hour he had fallen to sleep. He did not stir as he listened to the soft breathing of the sleeping elleth who lay on the opposite side of the bed. The thought of the last evening still brought warmth to his heart and a smile to his lips. He turned carefully onto his back and looked up at the dark fabric that hung around the bed, the only sign of early morning light coming from the window above the surprisingly low headboard.

He turned towards her, unable to resist the opportunity to watch her without her knowing it. He raised himself up on his elbow, leaning his face in the palm of his hand and looked lovingly at the sleeping form of his wife. His wife; he had only lately begun to call her so in his mind and it still seemed strange to him but the thought of it caused a tremor of sheer joy to course through his body.

He noted with sadness that her back was to him and there was as much space between them as the huge bed would allow. She was curled as if to protect herself while she slept. She was so small, especially for an elf, but it added an extra delicateness to her that seemed fitting. He wished that he could hold her against him; his arms wrapped around her, and protect her from any harm. He longed to caress her, to reach out and feel her move into his embrace. He longed for her. She stirred slightly and he sighed, turning over and stepping out onto the cold stone floor knowing soon she would wake and knowing with a certain sadness that she would wake more at ease if he were not there.

* * *

Saeorii woke more fully as she sensed him moving outside the thick curtains that surrounded the massive bed. The suns first rays made a pleasantly bright spot on the dark fabric of the blankets and she turned herself towards it. She could see where he had been laying, one pillow tipping precariously towards the floor and somehow felt comforted.

His every action towards her coaxed her to trust him, almost against her will. She loved him; as much as her fears would allow and it seemed that each day her fear of him grew less and less. His kindness towards her last night had surprised her beyond expression and she had found herself slightly sad when she realized how tired he was and knew that he must sleep and therefore stop speaking. The common tongue did not seem nearly so harsh when it was spoken by him, although he always used elvish when speaking to her.

Her elvish ears caught his deep sigh, but it was not one of contentment as it had been the night before as he slipped into slumber; it was of loneliness. It tugged at her heart and she realized how much it must hurt him every time he reached to touch her gently and she flinched or moved away. She wondered how many times she had missed looks of pain or longing because she didn't dare look into his face. She wondered how many times she had missed his silent asking for her comfort unlike he who was always there to comfort her.

She felt hot tears on her cheeks and soon her pillow was damp with silent tears as she listened to him moving about their room, preparing for another day in Council. She shed another tear as the words he had spoken to her about his Council's returned to her. Words of sadness, of fear, of his inadequacies and though she had spoken words of comfort and wisdom she had never had the courage to reach out and truly comfort him. To merely lay her hand on his arm, or caress him and sooth him as one who loved him should; she did not know how. Her knowledge of such things it seemed had been beaten and torn from her by the many blows of her master's hands, feet and whips.

She sat up in bed and wiped away what she told herself would be the last of this mornings tears. She pushed back the warm blankets, shivering for the mornings were still cool in her thin nightgown, and reached for her dark robe that lay across the foot of the bed. Noiselessly she pulled back the drapes at the side of the bed, wrapping in her robes as she stepped into the small silk slippers that waited where she had left them on the floor.

He sat in one of the two chairs that always were set in front of the fireplace, much like in the outer room, leaning heavily on his left arm. She looked closely, for she knew he was unaware that she had stirred and was standing watching him. His strong shoulders were bent with the weight of a kingdom. His face lined with the pain of loss and made slightly haggard by war. His eyes though were what spoke to her most, as it is with elves. His eyes told of the loneliness that he felt despite the fact that he shared these rooms with another; herself, a mere wraith of an elf, a shadow of a once vibrant creature. Perhaps it would be him who could teach her to live again, for already he had taught her to love.

With hesitant steps she walked silently forward and he did not stir; a broken king who sought to heal her pain when his own was still strong within him. She moved to stand behind him, the high back of the chair obstructing her view of his face slightly. She wished to comfort him but was unable to remember how, she remembered though despite her fear of him, the warmth of his hand on her cheek the evening he had come to her, seeking to ease her pain. She had waited for a blow that did not come and had cringed first at his touch until she felt its warmth. She could not calm her fears but their coldness was nothing compared to the warmth his touch spread through her tortured body.

She stretched out her hand towards him, observing despite herself that it shook slightly before she brought it gently to rest on his firm shoulder. He started at her touch but not so much that he pulled away from her hand; he knew it was her for he leaned his back against the chair towards her. The soft sounds of the spring morning drifted quietly through the open window and reminded her of the shady boughs of the trees in Mithlond. It carried to her the scent of the sea and for the first time she felt a slight joy in her heart, a faint image of all they had taken from her. As all elves she felt the wind calling her to raise her voice and enrich its whispers with her light, and she sang a song she had long forgotten and long yearned to hear while darkness and stone were all around her.

* * *

He had nearly cried out at the faint brush against his shoulder but had calmed as her sweet scent drifted slowly to him. He did not speak, for fear of frightening her. This was the first time she had ever made to touch him in any way and he was somehow not surprised that it was at a time when he needed it most. For moments they remained this way until he heard it. She sang softly, a song he had often heard in his years among the elves. It was a song of life. Her voice was like all elves and yet it was different; it did not tell of exultant joy and yet it did not tell of the sorrows that drove many elves from these shores. It told of one who knows sorrows so deep that there are no longer tears, and yet there is hope.

To be continued...

* * *

I think this has got to be the fastest that I have ever written a chapter this long. It might be a while before the next one though becasue I'm not quite sure what I'm doing for the next chapter of my other story. Oh well, enjoy this one!

fan: Wow. I'm honoured that my story touched you and thank you so much for your kind review. Definately planning on finishing, but I'm not usre as yet how long this ones gonna be. I hope to hear from you again!

Telacontar: lol, Glad to hear that reading my story is important to you. Thanks so much!

Tandriendra, Lady of Mirkwood:I'm glad that you like it, thanks so much!

Shary:Here you are, and I'm glad to hear that you are enjoying my story, I'll update as soon as I've overcome the writers block on my other story and can get back to this one. Thanks and hope to hear from you again.

Estel-Ara:Man, there are just so many ways and times that I can thank everyone but I thank you especially since you've stuck with me from the beginning. It meas a lot to me to hear from you. Thanks.

Karone Evertree:I'm glad you like Faramir too. He's not actually present for a lot of this story but since he's become close to Aragorn he's metioned quite frequently, will play a larger role again later on. Thanks so much for you review and I hope to hear from you again!

Elariel Erestorian: Wow, glad to hear that you think that my story has promise and that you aren't going to give up on me. If you see anything else that needs to be fixed let me know. Thanks!

alibi girl: Your wish is my command! Here's the next chapter and thanks!


	11. A Great Honour

Chapter Eleven: A Great Honour 

The never ending bickering of his councillors wore roughly against his last nerve until the temper that had made him legendary in his fathers house erupted with quiet potency as he suddenly stood from his chair and strode briskly towards the door. The voices ceased.

"Are you well, your majesty," asked one councillor on behalf of all.

He turned to them and spoke with a controlled yet somehow menacing tone, knowing his anger was plainly etched on his face.

"I am quite well, but I tire of these pointless meetings where nothing is accomplished aside from a great deal of arguing. I could make much better and more pleasant use of my time and I intend to do so."

With that spoken he turned quickly and left, but not before hearing it whispered quietly that nothing of this sort had ever been done by any of the great kings, and he slammed the door so that it resounded through the stone halls like the roar of a mighty beast. His anger, he knew, was seen by the guards that lined the hallway and he noticed they stood straighter as he stalked past them in the direction of his living quarters. The doors, when he reached them, were opened for him and he was astonished and almost distressed when he found them empty. He rushed back to the outer doors, calling to one of the guards as he went; the guard turned to him immediately.

"Where is the queen," he asked and knew that his voice betrayed his anxiousness for the older guard smiled and spoke as if to sooth a fearful child.

"She has gone into the city with Lady Maeve, your majesty."

* * *

Saeorii was still unsure of how it was she had allowed Maeve to convince her to come here. It was not that it was an unpleasant place, for she loved the sound of the people of Gondor. She held tightly to Maeve's arm and kept her eyes to the ground as if focusing on the simple task of placing one foot in front of the other would help her to ignore the loud voices of the men around her and diminish their overpowering presence. She wondered if it was the people of whom Elessar spoke so passionately about that had drawn her here in spite of her fears, for they spoke little now of his dreary council's and more of the kingdom that he had come to love. 

She pictured for a moment his face, haggard and slightly intimidating unless he should chance to smile, and then…. She remembered with fondness the deep richness of his voice as he had read to her for a second time the night before. She did not understand how it was that she was beginning to trust him so completely when so little time had passed. His striking silver eyes, his dark unruly hair and his strong featured face appeared unbidden before her eyes. She even imagined that she could hear his footsteps among those that hurried along the way, but she had not imagined it and paused for a moment hoping his footsteps would lead him to her. He would make her feel safe and protected and chase away the spectres of her former masters that seemed to leap at her from amid the crowd if she happened to look up.

"King Elessar, I am surprised to see you. What keeps you from your council this day?"

"A beautiful elven lady held my thoughts captive so that I was of no use to my kingdom unless I should go to her."

Saeorii felt her cheeks burning and chanced to look up just in time to see him smile, before returning her gaze to the well laid flagstones at her feet.

"Then I shall leave you to her most wonderful company, your majesty and wish you both a pleasant afternoon," stated Maeve as she curtsied and then began to weave her way through the bustling crowd, up towards the palace.

"My lady," he spoke, easily switching tongues, as he offered her his arm. They had not walked for long though before he broke the comfortable silence between them, "I hope that you do not mind my company. I suppose that I did not truly ask," he admitted as he led her skilfully down a flight of stairs through the jostling bodies of the busy citizens and travellers who seemed intent on reaching some point with great haste.

"Nay," she spoke to him easily, taking some solace in the fact that none could understand them, "I do not mind."

* * *

Her simple words made his heart soar for he knew that perhaps even a week ago she would not have felt to utter them. He loved to walk these streets among his people and did so often in the early mornings when the gates were just opening and life in these streets was beginning. Today however it was not those around him that he noticed but the timid elleth who held his arm. He lead her gently through the winding streets, feeling her tension ease more as the minutes flew quickly by and noticed that she had begun to take in the sights of those around them for Gondor was truly unlike any other city of men or of elves. 

"Make way!"

The cry of warning came none too soon and Aragorn quickly pulled Saeorii and he into a small alcove made for such purposes. His well trained ears did not miss the sound of her startled cry despite the loud clatter of the horses as they galloped past, nor did he miss the sudden stiffening of her slender body as he held her protectively against him. The riders passed however, the dust cleared and people ventured once more to the middle of the streets. He loosened his arms and with one finger under her chin led her eyes to meet his own.

"Are you alright?" he asked quietly and she nodded slowly although he could feel her trembling against him.

He loosened his arms even more but found she was not altogether ready to leave his embrace as her knees seemed to give way beneath her and he caught her, holding her steady with one arm. She leaned her full weight, little as it was, against him and had he not been so concerned for her he would have perhaps been slightly aroused by her closeness but his concern for her was stronger at this moment than any other feeling. He simply held her until her trembling ceased and she pulled away from him slightly. He released her but she did not move completely away and raised her deep eyes slowly, to meet his own.

"I am fine, thank you," she spoke softly in answer to his silent question as she laced her arm through his own, and let him lead her once more into the maze of ever moving bodies.

They now had reached the lowest level of the city and perhaps as well the busiest and he watched her closely, enraptured by the emotions that seemed to flit quickly across her face. He was startled from his thoughts however by a rather small body slamming into his right side. He felt Saeorii tense at the suddenness of the small boy's appearance but relax slightly as he squeezed her hand gently before kneeling to speak to the child who had now sat quietly sniffling on the ground beside him.

"Are you alright?"

* * *

Airon heard a man's deep voice and looked up, hoping that the man would not be angry and yell at him for he had not meant to run into him and his knee was hurting him so that he could not help but cry just a little. The man was a stranger and looked like some of the unsavoury characters who often sought refuge in the city from their wanderings in the wild, but there was something different about this man. His voice was gentle as he repeated the question again. 

"Are you alright?"

"Aye, my lord, thank you, but I did not mean to run into you, honest! I was just playing with my brother and I did not see you and I'm ever so sorry, but please don't yell at me," he babbled as he began to cry even harder and was very glad that at this moment his older brother Balon was not here to see him behave like such a baby, but the man only chuckled quietly.

"It is alright, young one and I have no intention of yelling at you. I know that you did not mean it. That's a rather nasty scrape you have there," commented the stranger and Airon smiled even wider.

"I had once a lot worse once," he said proudly, "I fell off my pony and cut my leg almost off!"

He wondered why the man was laughing so hard, but decided that it was alright just the same.

"Would you like me to fix it for you?"

"Are you a healer?" he asked, looking more closely at the man as he took a flask of water from his side and poured it over his burning knee. It felt good. "You look like one of the strange men they called Rangers that rode in with the king after the battle. They weren't really Rangers though. I know 'cause my dad is one of the Ranger's and he's off with Captain Faramir right now, fighting those nasty orc's! Have you ever fought an orc?"

* * *

Aragorn laughed at the child's rather incessant curiosity, reminded very much of Pippin as he did so. 

"No, I am not really a healer, although I know much about healing," Aragorn answered patiently as he tore a strip of cloth from his well worn jerkin and began to wrapping it gently around the child's knee. "And I am one of the strange men called Rangers. We really are Rangers though," he corrected gently, "we are just of a different kind, an older kind. We are called the Dunedain, and come from the line of kings." He watched the boy's eyes widen with surprise. "And yes," he continued gravely, "I have fought many orc's, too many orc's."

The boy looked at him, a mixture of awe and confusion written in his expression, at his grave words for Aragorn was sure that even though the orc's had attacked the city that this child had very little, if any idea of what foul creatures they were.

"Airon! Airon, where are you?"

Aragorn watched as the boy turned towards the voice and saw an older boy, similar in his fair hair and dark eyes to the boy, who sat before him, squeeze through the crowd.

"Airon, I've been looking everywhere for you! I thought that I was going to have to go home and explain to mother that I'd lost you again," said the boy quite angrily as he shifted the basket of food he was carrying, which had quite likely been what they were sent out for in the first place.

"So this is a frequent practice of yours is it, my young friend," asked Aragorn teasingly and the older boy who seemed to suddenly take notice of him, looked at him suspiciously.

"Who are you?" he questioned challengingly, moving closer to, Aragorn assumed, his younger brother.

Aragorn stood up and the boy took a step back, now very aware of the height, broad shoulders and strong arms of the Ranger of the north.

"You may call me, Strider," he spoke sternly, "and what of you?"

"This is my brother Balon," answered the younger of the two, "and I am Airon."

"Well met," he answered formerly and offered Balon his hand in greeting which the boy took, somewhat warily, still obviously unsure of what to make of the strange man.

"Who is she," asked Balon, gesturing towards Saeorii, who until this moment had gone unnoticed by the pair, standing silently at his side.

He smiled warmly and drew her slightly more forward and was pleased to note that she seemed unafraid of the two children.

"This is Lady Saeorii," he answered more warmly, and she inclined her head slightly in greeting, as the two boys both looked at her in wonder.

Any further questions however were delayed as a monstrous clap of thunder shook the air and bright lightning streaked the dark sky. Aragorn was surprised when Saeorii moved closer to him, and in response he pulled her tenderly to him, one arm resting reassuringly about her thin shoulders. The streets seemed suddenly to clear of all life, leaving very few others than the four of them outside. The two boys seemed to arguing about something although he took little notice as he pulled Saeorii's cloak tighter about her shoulders and looked for an inn where they might sit out the storm for it was a long walk to the palace. His efforts were deemed unnecessary though when he felt a tug at his cloak and turned to see Airon looking up at him through the pelting rain.

"Balon says that you and the lady may come home with us and wait for it to stop raining if you like. It's just over there," the boy explained as he hollered to be heard above the rain on the stone streets, and pointed to one of the smaller streets to his left.

* * *

"I will not have all my children lost out in the rain," Keril sternly told her eldest son, Trien, who was so intent on being strong in his father's absence that he sometimes forgot his fourteen years. "They will be here any moment," she said with more confidence than she felt and she knew that Trien saw her doubt when he rested his young hand on her weary shoulder as he spoke to her softly. 

"I know mother, I am sorry."

She shook her head and kissed him gently. She had not realized though how true her statement was and jumped slightly when the door was hurriedly opened and shut and she turned quickly towards it. She stopped however at the sight of the rather surly looking man who carried Airon and wondered at the small lady who held the edge of her cloak over Balon's head to keep he and all that he carried out of the rain. She saw Trien reach for the dagger on the mantle from the corner of her eye but he did it so discreetly that she was surprised when the stranger spoke to him.

"That would not be wise young one," the stranger spoke, his voice different and less rough than she had expected from his appearance, "we mean you nor any in your house any harm," he continued slowly as he set Airon down in front of him. The child immediately ran to her, his face lit like the sun that was currently hid beneath the stormy clouds.

She knelt to meet him, expecting for him to be somehow the worse for this man's company but finding that he was not she began to listen to what he was saying so excitedly.

"And his name is Strider and he is one of the Dunadain and he says that they aren't scoundrels at all but come from the line of kings. Oh, and mother, he's fought orc's just like father!"

With this statement she ceased to listen and looked once more to the stranger who pulled back his hood to reveal strong dark features, but it was his eyes that caused her tension to ease. They were wise and kind and like his rough face told that he had seen much of the world. They showed sympathy and sadness for her and she knew that he had seen those he had known and loved killed by the monsters that she feared now would be her husband's death.

"Trien, leave it," she instructed quietly, for her son's hand, despite the stranger's warning had not left the hilt of the dagger.

"I told them that they might stay here until the rain passed, mother. They helped Airon and I did not see any harm in it," explained Balon, who unlike young Airon had seen a little of his mother's apprehension.

She smiled at him and patted Airon's head as she stood once more.

"It was well of you to do so, my sweet," she returned her gaze to the stranger called Strider and smiled, "You are welcome to stay until the rain ends, and I invite you to eat with us, meagre though the meal may be."

Strider smiled and his face softened and she somehow knew that he did not often smile and felt her heart warmed by it as she stepped forward to take their cloaks and hang them before the fire to dry. It was now for the first time that she saw well the ranger's companion and she felt a strange sensation at the sight of the timid creature that was most obviously not of the realm of men.

"Please, my lord, come in and warm yourselves by the fire," she urged as she led the way towards it, knowing now that these two were even stranger than she had first thought, but welcoming them all the same.

* * *

"Is that your father's?" asked the man softly as Trien watched his two year old sister who had sat playing at his feet, move clumsily towards the pair. 

Trien merely nodded silently, still unwilling that he should appear the least bit friendly.

"May I see it?" he looked closely at the stranger, as if expecting some mockery or hate to be written on his face, but he could not find it. He saw only kindness as he slowly handed the dagger to Strider.

"It was given to my grandfather by a man named Thorongil, his name was,"

"Sirrius."

Trien was silenced as he watched Strider unsheathe the dagger and examine the blade carefully. He watched as his sister reached her small hands up to the beautiful creature beside the Ranger who complied with her simple request and lifted her up from the pelt on the floor.

"How did you know?" he asked his suspicions of the man returning.

"I know because I am he and I gave it to your grandfather when I parted, for he fought at my side in the last battle I fought as a soldier of Gondor and he saved my life," he answered with words that Trien found unfathomable for Thorongil had been a great friend to the late steward, Ecthelion and was legend among the rangers of the city.

He looked at the man with different eyes as his sister playfully reached to touch the man's rough beard from her newfound place in the lady's arms. All were startled however at the loud pounding on the door and Trien stiffened when he heard what was spoken and knew it was the king's guards who stood outside their door.

"Open in the name of the king!"

Trien saw his family's apprehension and made to step forward but stopped, unsure as the Ranger strode quickly towards the door. He opened it, obviously unafraid of what waited on the other side. The face of the guard looked startled and Trien noticed that he stood straighter at the sight of this man who had fought at his grandfather's side, but nothing could have prepared him for what was spoken next.

"King Elessar!" the guard exclaimed, bowing slightly before standing to attention. Trien heard his mother gasp and drop her ladle into the cauldron of stew.

"Yes, captain. What is it?"

"The council wished to know if they are to wait for you to begin the evening meal."

The man that Trien now knew to be the king of his city turned and spoke words in a soft and elegant language to the lady who was with him and she answered him in kind before he turned once more to speak to the guard.

"Tell the council that we have had a better offer for this evening's meal," the guard nodded stiffly.

"That is all, Captain. You are dismissed"

With that the king shut the door and Trien stood bewildered with the rest of his family as he realized just who these two were that stood once more, side by side, in front of his family's small hearth. He was speechless as he watched the king and queen of the entire realm of men elicit unrestrained laughter from his youngest sister and listen patiently to the tiresome and often overlapping tales of his two younger brothers. He wondered as he felt the draft from one of the cracks in the wall beside him at these two who had given up their bountiful table and great warm fireplaces for the meagre supper and company of his family. He smiled at the pair who now sat on the floor before the hearth: the great king and queen of Gondor. Truly they had been given a great honour this night. A great honour indeed.

* * *

I am so sorry that this took so long, especially since it's just a fluff chapter but I promise that the next couple will be more dramatic. Just thought that you might be getting a little tired of all the depressing stuff and sadness, but I promise the next chapter will be better because Saeorii's going to come face to face with her past. Wonder how Aragorn will deal with it and if he'll be able to help Saeorii through it. Stay Tuned! 

Cobra Rigoletti: Thanks so much for the compliment and I'm glad to hear that I am able to make it so that you can picture yourself there. That's really what I'm going for and I'm glad to see that it's working, even if only for you! Thanks so much!

Tadriendra of Mirkwood: Glad that you like it and I'm sorry that you had to wait so long! Thanks!

aragorn lover:I have pity and here it is although I'm sorry that it took me so long. Hope that you will not give up on me!

Tracey137: Wow. Thanks. Your review kinda left me speechless but I guess I'll just say thanks for the compliment, it really means a lot. You totally made my day and Legolas and Gimli will enter the story although it will be a few chapters. Thank you so much for your review and I hope to hear from you again.

Diadora: Thank you so much, I take your tears as a compliment and you might want to buy some tissues because after this fluff chapter the next couple are kind of sad. Thank you!

Allison Mervis: Short and sweet and yet it still means so much to hear from you. Thank you so much and I hope that I hear from you again!

Estel-Ara: I'm glad to see that you are still reading and still enjoying my story cuase you've been with me since I first posted it and I always love hearing from you. Hint for next chapter: Saeorii will either have to open up to Aragorn when her past returns or fade from middle earth despite her promise to Cirdan.

Karone Evertree: Glad to hear that you like it and Aragorn and Leglas will see each other soon. Sorry though, it might be longer than you'd like. Thnx!

Dazzler420: Like your vocab. Very thesaurus and thanks so much, glad that you like it.

alibi girl: lol. glad to know I'm appreciated and I'm sorry that it took me so long. Hope that it was worth it!

amelia: Wow, thanks so much and I most definately am going to finsih my stories although at my current rate it may take years. Oh well, I'll keep going and try and update as soon as possible. Thanks so much, hope to hear from you again!


	12. Safe In My Arms

Chapter Twelve: Safe In My Arms 

"Father?" Ilterrin called softly as he opened the door to his parent's bedchambers. He had just received the highest mark in his archery group and could not wait to tell his father.

He pushed the door open further and stepped inside. The room felt haunting and strangely lonely: deserted as the curtains fluttered softly in the summer's breeze, brushing gently against something that seemed to have fallen beneath the windows. The hair on his neck stood on end and his heart beat faster as the room seemed to grow cold and stale like the tombs of the old kings. He stepped towards it and wished as he drew nearer he had not taken the last step.

Slowly he pulled the curtains back, holding them so they would not interfere as his stomach lurched and his heart grew cold at the sight before him. He was frozen, unable even to breathe as he took in the sight of the pale body that lay broken before him. Blood stained her alabaster skin and fell in silent drops to the stone floor beneath her. He reached out and turned her so that she faced him, her body limp as the dolls the children played with in the village. Her ears came to slight points and her high cheek bones were drained of any colour. Her body was skeletal, as if she had been fed nothing for months and he wondered where she had come from.

With care he lifted her frail form and laid her on top of his parents unmade bed reaching for the pitcher of water on the nightstand as he tore a piece of his shirt and wet it with water. Many wounds were fresh and continued to bleed despite his efforts but others were older and her body was riddled with scars. He knew that she had been very beautiful once as he moved her long ebony hair to clean a large gash on her forehead. He stopped suddenly filled with uncontrollable rage for anyone who could did this to such a fair creature and when he looked again she was watching him. Her dark eyes haunted him. They were dull with pain and fear. He did not want her to fear him; he wanted to help her, if only he could make her understand.

"Please, do not be afraid. I want to help you," he pleaded.

She tried, but could not speak for her face was discoloured and swollen from a blow that she had been unable to stop. He continued to clean her wounds, realizing that he had never truly seen any woman's body bare before him but he felt no desire to explore her although she was weak enough he knew she could have done nothing to stop him. Instead he pulled the silk sheets to cover what part of her he was not caring for. A small tear fell down her cheek as he cleaned her wounds and he wondered how many more like it had fallen.

He knew no measure of time as he carefully washed and tended even the smallest of her wounds as she trembled from fear or cold. He put the wash cloth in the basin which was now filled with water stained a terrible red and removed his vambraces and his belt and took the tunic from his back. Then, ever so carefully, he pulled it to cover her body, cradling her in the crook of his arm as he dressed her. For a moment afterwards he looked into her face and he saw the traces of elven knowledge and light that had been long ago beaten from her as had her joy. He could not tear himself away from her deep eyes because she knew; she knew he would not harm her and he felt his own tears start to fall down his young face as he laid her back against the soft pillows and held her cold hand in his. He wondered if she was dying and a dark voice told him that she was and he cried harder for even he knew that elves were not supposed to die.

"Ilterrin!" his father's sharp voice broke through his tears and he lifted his bowed head, startled to see his father's dark shape looming in the doorway. "What in Arda are you doing?"

"Father, who is she?" he asked, hoping that his father could do something but he felt instead a strange sensation like cold hands gripping his heart as his father laughed. He felt her stiffen at the sound of it and she turned her face from them.

"She is no one. A mere whore for me to do with as I please. On your eighteenth birthday she will be yours," his father told him lightly, as if he were proud of what he had done to her.

He felt sick. This man could not be his father. He knew his horrified expression was written plainly on his face for his father grew angry and reached past him, pulling the elleth from the bed, holding her off the ground by her hair.

"This is nothing. Feel no sorrow for her," his father spoke with disgust as if she was a filthy orc and he felt rage.

"Let her go!" he screamed and tackled his father, slamming him against the wall and forcing him to let go of her.

He looked up at his father as he cradled the elf in his arms. She was crying, trying to speak again. He saw the hopelessness in her eyes. She had resigned herself to this; to death. She spoke soft words that he did not understand before she became limp in his arms and her eyes slowly closed; he felt hot tears fall down his face.

His father's face was scarlet with fury as he came at him and Ilterrin felt himself thrown across the room by his father's hand. Images swam and then suddenly his mother was there, holding him and screaming at his father to stop. He pulled himself away from her and stood, unsteadily to his feet and looked back at her.

He expected to see anger; righteous indignation that her husband should use another woman's body for his pleasure. It was not there and he wondered if she knew. He looked again and saw not the anger he had first expected but bitter, anguishing sorrow for the elf that lay, crumpled and unmoving at his father's feet. She knew. She knew but didn't blame this poor creature. What Ilterrin could not know was that his mother had found her often as he had this day and unbeknownst to her husband had tended to the elleth's wounds. Crying her own salty tears as she sang lullabies and prayed that the poor child would die so she would suffer no more.

"Mother," he began but his words fled as a single tear fell from his mothers beautiful pale blue eyes. He had never seen his mother cry.

He turned back to look at his father once more and threw his dagger, sheathe and all, hatefully at this man's feet. He saw the look of astonishment and hurt on his fathers face but did not care. He kissed his mother once and looked deeply into her eyes for a moment: she knew he would not return. He ran from the palace, blinded by tears and did not turn back.

He had been sixteen that day and in his mind that was the day that he became a man. He mounted his horse and fled the village despite the looks of those he passed and rode into the forest where it was said a group of rebels dwelt. He stayed with them for two years and they hailed him as lord in his father's stead. Exactly two years from the day when he learned the truth about whom his father was he led the rebel's in a battle against his father and won.

He had not stayed to enjoy the victorious feasting of his people, for they were glad to see his father dead, slain by his own hand. He had learned long ago that the elf was not the only one who his father had mistreated. He had left the square and ridden for the palace, searching through the dank dungeons for any who knew of her for he had decided that she would be freed and live as she pleased in his home, wanting for nothing for the rest of her endless years. She was gone. She had fled during the battle and it was said that another prisoner had chased her, claiming she would be his.

For months since Ilterrin had scoured all the lands of Middle-earth for some news of her, leaving his kingdom and his mother in the hands of his most trusted friend as he searched for her. His journey had led him here, to the White City, and he paused upon the Field of Pelannor to watch as the setting sun turned the White Tower to shining gold. The wind blew sweetly and he breathed deeply as he closed his eyes and saw not the gold tower but her endless eyes and silver tears. The wind whipped his pale hair across his dark face, wiping away his own tears as he urged his mount forward hoping to make it to the city before the gates were closed. Hoping that his search would end.

* * *

Saeorii stood atop the landing of the White Tower, hearing the gentle whispers of the wind among the branches of the White Tree of Arnor that lived and grew once more as in the days of old. Her dress was made of light material and moved gently about her as she went to stand at the edge and look out across the land as far as her elven sight would allow. The sun's last fire was casting its scarlet flame over the flat plains and fields that stretched out ever before her to the sea and as she breathed deeply she could smell the tangy scent of the mighty ocean and imagine she heard the soothing rush of the waves on the shore.

She looked once more and saw a small group of riders making towards the palace with great speed. Her heart stopped as she saw the black hawk upon a white sky that had turned crimson in the last light of the sun. The taught snap of the banner was suddenly the crack of a whip. The darkening sky was the walls of stone that had been her prison. Her knees gave way beneath her and she could not breathe as the darkening sky was suddenly filled the haunting forms of her master's shadows. He had come for her. He had come to take her back. She belonged to him.

"Saeorii, are you alright?"

* * *

He had watched her fall to her knees and ran to her as he never remembered running before. Her eyes were distant, unseeing that it was he who now knelt at her side and he wondered who it was she saw that caused all colour to leave her sweet face and tears to course silently down her cheeks. At a loss he reached for her and pulled her into his arms. At first her body was stiff and unyielding and she tried to pull away but he did not let go and soon she calmed and he felt her melt against him. She was still crying and he could feel her tears through his dark tunic as she repeated the same chilling words over and over again as he rocked her gently from side to side.

"Please don't let him take me. Don't let him take me. Don't let him take me."

"Who, Saeorii," he asked softly as he eased her away from himself and cupped her face in his large hands, searching her deep eyes for an answer.

"Tyurin."

She spoke the name as if it pained her even to utter it and she began to shake all over. He pulled her close and wrapped the heavy robe on his back around her trembling form. He did not have to ask who it was for she had already told him. Told him with each crystal tear that fell from her eyes; told him with the fear that made her eyes seem haunted and empty; told him in the way that she clung desperately to him as she sobbed silently against his broad chest. He held her to him tightly as he dared without fearing he would harm her and sang to her softly in elvish as the first stars appeared in the sky above them. He kissed her dark head and rested his cheek against her soft hair breathing in her scent as he tried to soothe her.

"None shall ever take you from me," he whispered softly and felt her still, listening intently to the words he spoke. "You are and ever will be safe here in my arms and in my home where you shall dwell so long as your heart desires." He shifted her slightly so that her head was titled back so that all she saw was his loving face and the beautiful sky above him. He smiled at her as a single tear slid down his cheek and mingled with hers. "I love you," he whispered as his heart beat slowly against her face and he realized that he loved her more than he had ever loved before. "I will always love you."

Gently he raised her towards him and felt her gasp softly as he brushed his lips against hers with a deep and sacred tenderness. He lingered only for a moment, forcing himself to pull away once more and was humbled to see colour rise to her cheeks as he gently wiped the last tears from the corners of her eyes with the edge of his satin robe.

* * *

Ilterrin had felt unwelcome since his arrival at the gate where he had been made to wait an hour before he was taken to Minas Tirith and where he had been told very coldly that the king would see him. He sat there now, still astride his horse, and was startled from his private thoughts when the great doors to the palace swung open. He watched as two lines of very formidable looking guards bearing spears at least three feet above the head of the tallest marched out and took their places along the walkway made with white stones that led to the wide steps of the palace. None, it seemed, were unarmed and his men shifted uneasily as they stood on the ground at his side.

As one body and without orders all the guards turned with rigid steps to face him and their eyes were sharper than any sword he had ever seen. That their hands came to rest on the hilt of their sword's did not go unnoticed by any in his company he knew that it was with guarded friendship and not opened arms that he would be greeted by King Elessar this night. As suddenly as they had turned towards him the guards again turned to face the walkway that led towards where he waited and made an archway with their spears as a great figure appeared in the open doors.

"Announcing his majesty, King Elessar!" cried one guard at the top of the stairs and the king inclined his head slightly as he passed.

He felt his mouth open in awe as he watched this man, whom it was said had spent his life as a Ranger, walk towards him. His silver eyes pierced Ilterrin with all the trueness of an elven arrow but he saw behind the restrained anger, great wisdom. Beneath the robes of a king were broad shoulders used to carrying the heaviest load and strong arms that would easily wield a sword. He felt very small as King Elessar of Gondor walked towards him and he swung down from his horse and knelt, knowing those with him would follow.

He heard the sound of steel being bared and felt suddenly the coolness of Anduril at his throat. The king knew.

"Speak now or be forever silenced," the king spoke in a low tone that sent chills down his spine although he didn't dare shiver for fear of the blade at this throat.

"I am Prince Ilterrin of Nian, your majesty," he answered quickly and felt slightly embarrassed by the slight waver in his voice. He had never been so frightened in all of his nineteen years and he sensed that the king would not hesitate to kill him.

"Why have you come?"

"I have come to offer what little my kingdom can give to Gondor, be it men or land or anything else that is mine to give."

"And" the king paused expectantly.

The blade pressed slightly harder at his throat.

"And to seek a lady who was taken during the rebellion against my father."

The blade was pressed beneath his chin, forcing him to look up at King Elessar.

"Why do you seek her?"

He could not turn his eyes from the king's and so looked into them, hoping to find in them mercy that he knew he did not deserve.

"Because I owe her everything I have to give and more for what those who have sat upon the throne before me have done to her," he spoke and he could not keep the disgust he felt for his grandsires from creeping into his voice as he spoke. "I owe her a debt that I can never begin to pay, but I wish to try."

There was no change in the stoic expression of the king and he feared that his words had fallen upon deaf ears but then the blade at his throat was lowered and he immediately bowed his head under the weight of the clear eyes that stared at him unceasingly. He released a breath that he had not realized he had been holding as he heard the familiar sound of a blade being sheathed but he dared not look up.

"Rise, my brother," spoke the king, his voice resonating richly so that all present heard and Ilterrin opened his eyes to see the king's leathered hand reaching to help him stand. He was left speechless as he allowed the king to pull him to his feet and looked again into his eyes that now held only kindness and compassion: completely absent was any anger or ill will. He did not understand and the king smiled sadly, "It is not right for the son to be punished for the actions of his father. Your heart is true and so I welcome you to my kingdom, name you my friend and say that you shall be welcome in my house for as many years as are gifted to you."

To be continued….

* * *

I know I kind left that in the middle of things, but at least I'll keep your interest and hopefully you will read the next chapter.

Tadriendra of Mirkwood:Thank you so much and I know that my grammer is horrible but I think I am beyond any hope. Anyway, Aragorn won't let anything happen to Saeorii. Thanx!

Brandy Lebeau: Thank you so much and welcome to the story, I don't think you've ever reviewed before. I am glad that you like it and will try and update as soon as exams allow! Gotta hate 'em eh? Anyway, thanks and I hope to hear from you again!

Karone Evertree: It's alright, fewer people reviewed to this chapter than the last and I assumed since it took so long for me to get reviews that there were probelms. Isn't technology great? Anyway, thanks so much and I'm glad that you liked my fluff chapter! Thanks for your reviews!

Blistered Avalon: Glad that you feel included. That's my goal is to make everyone feel like they are there! Anyway, thanks for your reveiw!

EamanA: Glad that you like my story and as for when they will finally kiss? I think my chapter already answered that one. Anyway, thanks for the review and hope to hear from you again!

Estel-Ara: Thanks so much for the compliment! Every once in a while you just need time to recharge your brain and that is what fluff chapters wree made for! Glad it was enjoyable, and thanks!


	13. Letter from Sierra

_To any who have read this far,  
__  
I am really, really, sorry and totally upset that I will be forced to take a twelve week hiatus due to the fact that I must work away from home and my wonderful computer for the summer. I was totally bummed when I heard the news. I am afraid that you will all give up on me and abandon my story. I love hearing from you all so much that I would be totally heartbroken if I don't hear from any of you when I return to writing in the fall. I wanted you all to know and I will totally miss all of you. I will finish my stories. I will devote every free moment I have to them in the fall. They are not finished so add me to your story alert and I will be back with a vengence in the fall. Also welcome to any new readers and I hope that you will still reveiw as I will be checking my e-mail as often as I can get to the local library or access center. Anyway I am so so sorry that I have to do this and I will miss hearing from you and writing for you. Please don't abandon me and I hope that you will all keep an eye out for when I come back. I luv doing this so much, it just wouldn't be the same if you weren't all reveiwing. Thank you from the bottom of my heart for all your support and wonderful reviews. I will be back as soon as I am able. I will miss you all so much. Please don't give up on me. I cannot tell you how sorry I am. Thank you so much,  
Luv Always,  
Sierra Leone_


	14. Until We Meet Again

Chapter 14: Until We Meet Again

Aragorn had spent most of the night speaking with the young prince of Nian. The night had been dark as had their words for what they spoke of was painful to both their hearts but especially his as he could not stand to think of all that had been done to his beloved. He could not help but think that there must have been something that he could have done to spare her pain, but he knew there was not. Only an hour ago had he returned to his own chambers from those he had instructed to be prepared for the prince and since his return he had not moved from the seat before the dwindling fire where could watch Saeorii as she slept. Her dark hair was pulled back in a braid and he could see the smoothness of her skin from across the room and the darkness of her soft lashes against her alabaster cheek. She sighed in her sleep and moved slightly so that the blankets fell away. He stood and pulled them around her once more, lingering long enough to gently brush his rough hand against her cheek before walking onto the balcony where he could see the stars beginning to disappear in preparation for the rising of the sun.

He leaned against the stone railing and looked towards the horizon. At this moment he wished more than ever that his father or brothers were here for he could tell them of his anger and they would understand. He could tell them of his sorrow and they would not laugh. He could tell them of his joy and they would share his laughter. He could tell them of his love for the beautiful elleth that lay sleeping in the next room and they would celebrate with him.

* * *

Saeorii felt the tightening of her chest with each step that echoed in the cold darkness, afraid it might be the heavy steps of Tyurin. He no longer had need for the shackles that bit into her thin wrists for her first master had broken her spirit long ago. She could no longer remember the soft caress of the wind nor the the soothing surge of the waves. Burned into her mind were the harsh words of her master and the cold terrible feeling of his hands upon her skin. The burning of hot irons, the crack of a whip, the pain of raw hunger, these were all that she knew now. Her pride had long ago abandoned her and she would beg him to stop. Plead, until her voice was a mere whisper beneath the sound of his laughter or the singing of his whip. She knew that others could hear her, she heard their footsteps and timid voices, but they too feared her master and so it was as if they knew nothing. 

It was as though none heard the strangled cries that were beaten from her body relentlessly. None smelled the blood that fell soundlessly to the cold dirt floor. None knew her pain as another blow crashed against her. None felt the terrible loneliness that threatened to suffocate her as he stood over her. None heard the terrible words that he so loved to whisper in her ears. None heard her pleading as he took her for himself once more. None felt the loss of something she could not get back as he left her. None moved to stop as he brought his hand down, again, again, again. None heard. None saw. None questioned. None helped. All knew. None came to wipe her tears as they traced the lines of her bleeding face.

The door at the other side of the room opened and she knew without seeing that it was he who stood there. The door closed behind him and he walked slowly towards her.

"Please," she begged, her voice hoarse and strange to her own ears. "Please."

If only some one could help her. Where was he? He had said he would never leave her.

He raised the whip.

* * *

He had just fallen asleep when her cry awakened him and he sat up quickly unsure of what he would find. He turned and looked at her and saw her laying on her side, her tears shining in the waning moonlight, her body trembling as sobs shook her tiny frame. Immediately he moved across the bed and gathered her in his arms leaning against the wall behind them and pulling the soft blankets up around her shoulders. She did not resist his efforts to sooth her but instead pulled closer to him and he tightened his arms as she rested her head against his chest and laid her hand on his arm. He did not have to ask what haunted her for now he knew all that had been done to her and knew that all he could do was hold her until her fears passed. What had already come to pass could not be undone. Hot tears fell down his own face as he reached up slowly and stroked her hair murmmuring words of elvish in her delicate ears. He moved slowly, laying down once more and laying her head against his chest as he held her tenderly in his strong arms. She sighed easily and he sensed that she would soon be asleep once more as he spoke to her softly. 

"I shall always love you," he whispered and kissed the top of her head gently.

He pulled her closer as he closed his own eyes which were now heavy with sleep and nearly missed her answer, her voice languid and calming as the spring breeze that gently moved the curtain above his head.

"Elessar."

She breathed his name softly before shifting slightly agaisnt him so that her small hand lay over his heart and he smiled as he succumbed to deep and peaceful sleep.

* * *

She woke as he stirred beside her and slowly became aware of her surroundings. Her head was pillowed by his arm, her back touching his chest and her arm entwined with the one he draped across her, as if to ensure she did not leave him. She had no desire to leave but instead sighed contentedly and pulled the blanket away from her face slightly so that she could see the brilliant sun that was streaming in through the window. She watched with delight as a beautiful songbird perched on the windowledge and began to sing. 

"He sings almost as well as you," Elessar stated sleepily as he pulled her closer and moved her so that he could see her face.

She laughed softly and then stopped suddenly as she saw the awed look upon his face and realized what had caused it. He had never heard her laugh.

"I shall have to remember to make you laugh more often. It is a most beautiful sound," he spoke softly as he brushed a stray lock of her dark hair from her face.

"Your council must believe you have abandoned them," she stated as he sat up, laying her gently upon the soft matress.

"It is alright," he told her as he yawned and stretched. "I wouldn't ever want them to become bored."

Both turned and looked as they were interupted by a firm knock on the door.

"My lady, are you well?" questioned Maeve and Elessar turned to look at her, smiling amusedly.

"It seems that we have worried your lady with our laziness," he teased, "I'm not sure I dare let her in," he stated, feigning worry, "I expect she will be most displeased with me. I believe I'm becoming a bad influence on you."

She laughed softly as he rose to open the door for her. It had been long since any had made her laugh, too long.

* * *

Ilterrin sat uneasily on the stone bench in the courtyard where one of King Elessar's guard's had told him to wait. He wondered how she had changed from the way that he remembered her and hoped that she was now well and loved. He glanced again at the guards who stood at each door once more as he had done often in the past minutes for he was still uneasy after having seen them marching grim-faced towards him the night before. He remembered how his heart had stopped when he left his chambers earlier that day to find two of them standing outside his door. The elder had assured him that they were there for his own protection and that all guests of King Elessar were treated in such a manner, but he sensed that all of them watched him closely whether he was walking the palace halls or sitting here outside the palace. He fidgeted with the dagger that hung at his side and wondered if perhaps she had changed her mind and did not wish to see him after all. 

He had almost decided to approach one of the guards when he heard two of them speaking softly to a woman who stood just outside the courtyard. She wore a simple cloak that hid her face from him but he noticed that her burgandy dress was of good cloth, despite its simple style. He stood, as he had been taught as a child, at the lady's appraoch and inclined his head. She moved with an intriging grace; her footsteps soundless upon the white flagstones beneath her feet. She seemed timid though as she stopped, standing so close that he could have reached out and touched her. He bowed slightly before speaking,

"My lady, I am Prince Ilterrin, of Nian."

He watched in wonderment as she reached up and slid back the hood of her cloak so that he could see her dark eyes and fair face. Her dark hair shone like shimmering streams beneath the bows of the evergreens in the forests around his home. Her frame, though still slender was not sickly and no bruises marred her sweet face. Although she would not look him in the eye she did not turn her face from him as she had his father. Her pale skin was flawless and held a hint of color brought to it by the cool spring air. She seemed unsure of herself as she finally met his gaze and he could stare once more into the deep eyes that had haunted his dreams since he left her that day but what he saw there made his heart glad. He saw the return of elven knowledge and light and hints of the joy that had been so lacking as to make her eyes seem haunted. He would not have thought they were the same eyes he had gazed into three years ago were it not for the sorrow and fear that lingered there still despite the return of joy.

"Well met, Prince Ilterrin. I am Lady Saeorii, once of Mithlond and now of Gondor and I bid you welcome to my fair city."

Her voice was like a song, her strong accent telling that the words she spoke were strange to her tongue, yet still they were beautiful.

"I came back, last year," he began, his words halting and disjointed as he tried to find the words he so wanted to say to her. "I tried to find you but they said you had fled and that Caline followed you. I tried to find you in the city but could not so I left and have searched all of Middle-earth for you since. I wanted to tell you that my father is dead. I wanted to tell you that you would be safe now, that no one else would ever harm you. I wanted to tell you that you were free." He bowed his head, the shame of what had gone on before his life a great weight upon his young shoulders. "I wanted to tell you, tell you, tell you how sorry I am," he finished as he fell to his knees sobbing quietly.

He sensed her kneel down before him but was still surprised to feel her soft hand as she forced him to look at her. Then she spoke words in an enchanted tongue that he did not understand. They sounded familiar though as if he had heard them before and he realized she had spoken them to him that day when he held her dying body in his arms.

"I do not understand," he whispered, as if his words might break the spell that he felt he was under.

"May the grace of the Valar be with you. May yout heart remain ever pure. May you never loose hope."

Ilterrin was startled by the king's deep voice as he spoke the elven words in the common tongue and looked quickly behind Saeorii to see the king standing there, watching them quietly.

"Elessar thought you might like to see our city," Saeorii spoke quietly drawing his attention to her once more. He moved to protest and it seemed she knew before he spoke that he wished to ask once more for her forgiveness and shook her head. "It was not your fault, Ilterrin. You are not to blame."

He sat unmoving for a moment before he nodded, smiling slightly as he stood and offered her his hand which she took with only slight hesitation. When she stood the king placed his arm around her shoulders and whispered in her ear and he watched a tension he had not noticed before disappear and she seemed completely at ease and unafraid as she smiled sadly and took the king's arm.

"Come Ilterrin," called the king, "and I shall show you the many wonders of the White City."

The guards nodded as they passed through the archway into the city streets.

"King Elessar, Queen Saeorii," they spoke in unison as the two passed through ahead of him.

He stopped, his voice quiet with bewilderment as he spoke.

"Queen?"

The pair paused and she smiled, her cheeks turning a becoming shade of rose as Elessar laughed hearitly.

"Aye, Ilterrin. This is the Lady of the White City, my wife, and my queen," he heard the deep love and admiration in the king's voice and could not speak but stood for a moment stunned. "Come Ilterrin, we have much to see this day before the sun sets," called Elessar as finally he turned away, still chuckling at the astounded expression that Ilterrin knew was on his face.

Ilterrin allowed himself to be led through the winding levels of the city and was glad for the king's guidance for without it he knew he would have been lost long ago. He watched as the people of Gondor waved to their king and queen, their laughter seeming to fill the air. He was surprised to see many stop and speak to the king and Saeorii as if they knew them well. He watched, walking slightly behind the two as a group of children ran towards them and the king hoisted two small boys onto his shoulders while Saeorii gathered one of the youngest children in her arms.

"They are here everyday," spoke a stranger from behind him and Ilterrin turned to look at the elderly lady who sat watching with sparkling eyes. Ilterrin did not speak but turned back to watch the two as the woman continued. "It gives us hope to see them. Makes us feel safe to know that he is our king. Many say that it is ill advised to have a king who has spent so much time in the wild and among the elves. They no longer trust elves here in Gondor as they did when I was a child." The woman grew quiet and Ilterrin watched as King Elessar chased the children playfully, their laughter lifting the hearts of those in the courtyard as they paused from their work to watch but it was she that held his attention. She stood watching, the young girl still cradled in her arms and shy laughter lighting her eyes. Who could see such beauty as hers and still despair he could not understand for in her was light and he knew without being told that she would shine like the stars beneath the moonlight once more. "Others may doubt it," the woman continued, her voice now wistful as she smiled, "but never has a better or truer king sat upon the throne. 'Hail to he who shall return, and shall bring us our hope once more," she finished speaking a rhyme that a traveller had once told him but he had never understood until this moment as he looked into the piercing sterling eyes of the king of Gondor.

The man had seemed old and yet wise beyond the years of man and had been cloaked in grey with a strange hat upon his head. He had not tarried long in the land of Nian but Ilterrin had never forgotten him; the fire in the old man's eyes unlike anything he had ever seen.

_"Can I help you?" he had asked the man as he stood just outside the gate of his home._

_The man answered him without looking._

_"Nay, I fear you cannot, penneth," and then the man had begun to speak as if his words were some ancient riddle to which he could not find the answer._

_"The White City calls to him,_

_The path before him plain,_

_When the hour is darkest,_

_And it seems we shall fall,_

_He shall come upon us,_

_Like one of old,_

_And free us from our peril._

_Hail to he who shall return,_

_And bring us our hope once more."_

Then as suddenly as he had come the Grey Wanderer had seemed to vanish, never to return again.

* * *

The sun had set when a rider came into the city and rode without stopping to the White Tower where he was taken at once to the king. It was soon heard throughout the city that Osgilioth was once more under attack and children and women watched as their husbands brothers, and sons marched with grim faces towards the tower where the king would join them. The city seemed silent with fear and impending death. Such great losses had already been dealt them that they could not imagine going through it again but they knew with terrible certainty that they would as the glint of armor and swords shone like stars amid the dark streets of the city. Then word came that gave hope to both those who rode and those that would be left behind. He would lead them, the banner of Gonder raised high above him, and the flame of the westburning brightly in his hand.

* * *

He had not been able to sleep as it had been many nights before when he knew he would ride into battle but this was harder knowing whom he left behind. He had gone to bed much after her and had pulled her close to him and his heart had surged when she moved against him in her sleep. He had known sleep would not come to him but knew he would find peace with her and so had held her for hours simply listening to her peaceful breathing and the soft beating of her heart. He had stroked her back and buried his face in her hair, hoping to remember her sweet scent that reminded him of the freshness after a summer rain and the softest scent of the many flowers that filled his remembrances of the elven realms. He prayed that the Valar would allow to him to return so that he could feel the softness of her slender body in his arms and brush his lips against her own once more. He had risen only when the stars began to leave the night sky and give way to the first grey lights of dawn and he knew that he must rise despite his hearts longing to stay at her side.

He stood now, in his chambers off the throne room, looking at those below him in the courtyard that would follow him into battle. Those he longed to have at his side though were painfully absent. He longed for the singing bow of Legolas, the ringing of Gimli's axe, the flash of Gandalf's staff, the echo of Boromir's horn, and the fierce cries of the small hobbits. These were whom he would have beside him if he could so choose.

Her quiet knock startled him and he called softly for her to enter and the sight of her as she entered only pained his heart more to leave her. Her dress was the palest of pinks so that if he did not look carefully he would have guessed it was white. As Maeve was not up yet her hair was down except for a few strands of the front that were pulled back from her face with silver pins the shape of ivy leaves. He felt his voice catch as he tried to speak and found words would not come.

Silently he pulled her so that her body leaned gently against his own and he pulled the white shawl closer about her shoulders as he looked into her endless dak eyes.

"I do not want to leave you," he whispered softly as he tucked her dark hair behind her beautiful elven ears.

"You must. Your people need you," she answered him in Sindarin.

"I know," he sighed and pulled her closer still as he traced the delicate curve of her face with his thumb as if to engrave it into his memory.

He leaned forward slowly, ever sensitve to any sign of her discomfort as he kissed her once, allowing his lips to linger and brush hers once more before he pulled away and saw the color rise to her cheeks. He smiled and chuckled softly.

"Where is my stone?" She looked at him strangely, her face a mask of confusion. "You give a gift to Faramir when he leaves, but not to me?"

She smiled and raised her hand timidly to brush the side of his face and he felt the warmth of her small hand.

"What need have you for a stone when you hold my heart," she whispered as a single tear slid down her pale cheek.

He took her hand and held it in his own, brought it to his lips and then held it pressed it between them as he pulled her close one final time.

"I love you," he whispered his voice husky with emotion before he kissed her, unsure how long it would be before he was able to do so again, if ever.

* * *

Saeorii stood at the edge of the White Tower, letting her tears fall freely as she watched him ride from the city into uncertain circumstances and certain danger. She loved him. She had longed to be able to speak the words to him when he parted but had not had the courage to speak them out loud. He paused and waited for the others to ride through the gates. He turned his face to the great city behind him as if he had sensed her watching him and her elven sight did not miss the tears that made his silver eyes shine as he gazed up at her.

She raised her hand in parting and the wind gusted stongly behind her and blew her dark hair across her face as the sun rose in vivid pastel hues behind her. To the guards behind her she seemed to shine, brilliantly so that the White Tower itself seemed dim. When she looked again, the flame of the west shone brilliantly in his hand as he turned and rode off into the distance.

"Until we meet again," she whispered quietly and the wind surged behind her, carrying her pure voice until it reached his ear and he turned for a moment to look one final time at theLady of the White City, who would hold his heart for all time.

* * *

And there you have it. Sorry that I've been later than planned but life gets in the way and I wanted to wait to have an update for all three of my stories before posting. Wanted all to know that I will probably only update every three weeks now as I have added a new story. It is a Star Wars AU, at the request of a friend. You can check it out if interested although I'm not sure how it will turn out as LOTR is my thing. Anway, can't wait to hear from you all, I have missed you so much this summer. Thanks for waiting for me.

Sierra Leone


	15. Love Her Always

Chapter Fifteen: Love Her Always

Saeorii turned so that she could see the stars in the window that was open above their bed. She could not sleep this night as she had found often since he had parted more than a month ago. The spring coolness was giving way to the warmth of summer as the days grew longer and she waited for his return. She slept on his side of the bed so that she could lay her head on his pillow and be comforted by his lingering scent. She sighed deeply and closed her eyes letting a solitary tear fall as she yearned to feel his arms around her, to hear the soothing sound of him breathing beside her, and feel his warmth. These things that had once caused her to stiffen in fear were now what she longed for as she laid watching the winking stars; her only comfort that the stars he looked at were the same.

There was the muffled sound of familiar footsteps in the outer room and she knew them to Ilterrin's before he spoke to her softly through the door. He had been a comfort to her in Elessar's absence because strangely enough though the very mention of his father's name reduced her to tears, she did not fear him. He had done well, for Elessar had left him in charge of the Council and the doings of Gondor instead of Prince Imrahil. For one so young he seemed wise and the people of Gondor had grown used to his ways although all longed for the return of their king. The city had become quiet in his absence, it seemed they to missed the sound of his voice and laughter as she did. Ilterrin knocked again and this time she rose, wrapping a light robe around her as she pulled open the heavy door to her bedchamber.

He was fully dressed and it was only then that she acknowledged the hurried footsteps of the servants in the corridors and the joyous calling of voices from the city below.

"Ilterrin, what is happening?" she asked quietly and he smiled at her tenderly, obviously carrying some good tiding that he wished her to know.

"He has returned."

* * *

Aragorn smiled wearily as he watched those who had ridden out with him embrace their loved ones tightly while he continued to ride towards the palace. The streets of Gondor that should have been silent at this late hour were filled with great rejoicing and much laughter and it did his heart good. However, despite his happiness for his people, he himself was terribly saddened. It had been long since he had last seen her except in his dreams. He missed her terribly and knew now that despite his longings for the wild he would never wish to stray from the White City so long as she was here. He nodded politely to those who had formed a sort of parade and were now following he and the soldiers with him to the tower where he would leave them and search for her.

The tower was well lit with many lamps that shone golden in the silver starlight as they reached Minas Tirith and he dismounted. The few wounded that were with him were immediately left in the care of the healers, but he knelt by the youngest that despite the fact that he would live seemed frightened. He held the young soldier's hand and spoke to him softly in elvish as he had seen his father do many times and the young man smiled weakly at him despite the fact he did not understand what was spoken. As was the way with elven words; they brought comfort to any.

He heard the doors to the palace open and glanced up but then could not turn away as she glided by the guards who bowed as she passed. He felt as if he must have slipped once more into a dream and when he would wake up her beautiful form would be nothing more than a shadow, a memory. She waited atop the palace steps seeming unsure of herself, as he stood enchanted by the very sight of her. Her raven hair fell nearly her knees and he could make out her silhouette plainly beneath the thin white nightgown over which she wore a pale lavender robe. Her eyes were deep and endless as the night sky and she shone brighter than the lamps around her with the light of the night stars. All were silent as the wind whispered around her and she stood motionless, simply staring into his eyes.

He moved around the edge of the stretcher at his feet and his heart soared as he watched her bare feet run down the stairs, each step she took bringing her closer to him. He reached for her and lifted her off her feet, swinging her around and revelling in the sound of her elvish laughter until at last he set her feet upon the white stones once more and held her close against his chest laying his head against hers as he felt a deep peace come over him. He loosened his arms slightly so that he could look into her beautiful face and he cupped the side of her face in his rough palm as he smiled at her.

"I have missed you, Melleth," he whispered softly in Sindarin, calling her by the name he had given her in his dreams.

She wrapped her two small hands around his own and looked unafraid into his eyes and he felt as though she could see the farthest edges of his soul.

"I love you," she whispered so softly that he nearly did not hear her.

Merely three words from her lips and he was unmade. His heart swelled within his chest so that he feared it might burst as he looked into the eyes of the elleth that had so totally and completely captured his heart. He could not fathom that one such as her could ever love him, especially after all that he had done to her. He pulled her close to him and leaned down and kissed her gently as he felt tears in his eyes. What had he done that he might be worthy of her, he wondered as he leaned his forehead against hers and looked into her immortal eyes that stared back at him with a frightening trust that he hoped he would one day have earned.

* * *

They had left the courtyard soon after and she had finally found sleep in his arms, content and at ease despite the scent of war that lingered about him. She had fallen asleep, lulled by his warmth and the constant rhythm of his breathing. She had sensed him leave her as the sun lit the morning sky, but she was content to linger between the warm sheets, sensing his presence near her and hearing his small movements in their rooms that had been painfully empty in past weeks as, he began his day. She had not stirred when he leaned over her and kissed her temple tenderly and whispered that he would soon return.

She realized that she must have fallen asleep because next she knew Maeve was bustling about the room, talking like a brook during spring flood and insisting that she must get up, that Elessar was waiting for her. She turned and looked at Maeve strangely and saw the joy in her eyes as she held up a riding dress for her approval and Saeorii wondered what in Arda was going on. Meave explained it to her hurriedly as she helped her dress and wove her hair into a simple braid. The king was waiting for her in the stables, he had a surprise for her that Maeve seemed sure she would like as she fastened the simple light cloak about her shoulders and tightened her doeskin boots.

One of the guards said that he would take her to the stables as she had never been there before and so she followed him through the streets of Gondor to the King's Stables. He left her at the doors and she paused a moment, unsure of what she would find before pulling one of the large wooden doors open to find an entire different world full of bustling stable hands and grooms, squires and pages; each glanced at her wondering for a moment who she was and then returned to their duties.

She paused again as the door closed behind her but this time it was not from fear but sheer joy to hear the wonderful soothing sounds of stallions and mares and smell the sweet hay and feel the warmth of their sweet breath as it was still early and they had not yet been taken outside to graze. Then for a moment she felt a wave of apprehension as she stood alone and unsure of herself until she noticed him quickly weaving his way towards her through the moving bodies. She felt wondrous relief when he took her arm in his and began to lead her down one of the alleyways and with each step they took the jostling of bodies and shouting of voices grew less until they were only a faint murmur and they were alone.

"I trust you did not have any trouble getting here?" he asked as he kindly led her to sit on a bale of hay while he himself moved to where a saddlebag rested against one of the walls.

"Nay, I did not. One of the guards brought me here, although as yet, no one has told me why I was to come," she reminded him.

He merely smiled and winked at her.

"All things in time, Melleth," he told her as he slid a blanket in the bag and then fastened it tightly. "Now, I have a gift for you, but I wish for you to close your eyes first."

The unsure tone of his voice told her that he was aware what a great thing it was he asked her but she realized that she felt no fear knowing well that he would never harm her. So, she stood without a word and covered her eyes with one hand and held the other out that he might lead her where he wished. She felt him take not one, but both of her hands in his and she smiled as he began to lead her further down the corridor. Her ears were aware of his every step and the fact that the voices behind them were growing softer still. She heard the familiar click of a latch being lifted and felt the moving air as a door was swung open before her. He led her even further and she felt sawdust and hay beneath her feet and felt the warmth of a large animal beside her.

"Now," he instructed, "open your eyes."

When she did she found herself in large stall standing next to a beautiful black filly that bore a white blaze upon her dark brow. She reached out to touch the creature's velvet nose.

"She is beautiful, Elessar," she breathed, having forgotten the magnificence of such creatures and watched as he smiled widely; obviously happy he had pleased her.

"She is yours," he told her and she looked at him unsure of what to say he continued, "She has never been ridden, nor has a saddle ever weighed her light feet with its burden. She will only ever be yours."

She looked at Elessar who stood smiling hopefully at her, unsure of his gesture as she felt a single tear slide down her cheek. He had chosen a horse that had never been touched by a saddle; never been ridden by man. He knew what it meant for an elf to be the first to ride a horse. They were untainted and free; wild of spirit and yet calm and obliging beneath an elven hand.

"Hannon le, Elessar," she murmured as she hugged him tightly but then a thought struck her suddenly and she pulled away slightly. "The morning wanes, your council will be looking for you," and she could not keep the disappointment from creeping into her voice as she spoke.

"Nay, they look not for me this day. I have missed you terribly these past weeks and I am going to be selfish and keep you to myself," he told her as she moved in his arms to reach out and stroke the elegant neck of Anduril and he kissed her head tenderly as she lay it against his chest. "Today you shall ride Anduril across the Field of Pelennor and from there, to anywhere your heart desires."

Both jumped at the shrill whiney that came from behind them and Saeorii turned to see the great head of a Rohirric horse watching them intently from the next stall.

"Who is this?" she asked as she walked towards the stallion and reached out to touch his chestnut coloured face.

"That is Brego," Elessar answered as he followed her and reached above her head to scratch the horse's ears fondly. "It is he who bore me as I rode with Theoden in the Battle for Helms Deep, and into the Paths of the Dead. It is he who bore me to the Black Gates of Mordor and not once did he falter."

"Great is he indeed," she whispered as Brego rubbed his head against her and suddenly knocked her backwards into Elessar's waiting arms.

Neither moved and for a moment as he held her. It seemed time around them stilled as she looked into his striking silver eyes. Slowly she reached up and tucked a lock of his unruly hair behind his ear, brushing her hand against his cheek. She knew he was slightly startled when it was she who pulled him close and touched her lips to his and she felt her cheeks grow warm against his. They parted and neither spoke until suddenly Brego nudged her and whinnied rather indignantly.

"I believe he is jealous of you, Melleth," Elessar stated before both burst into laughter and Brego turned his head away, seeming to know it was at his expense.

* * *

Aragorn breathed deeply the scent of the forest. They had ridden all morning and were now many leagues from the White City, its intimidating form a mere dot on the horizon. His thoughts however were not of his city but of his wife for in last hours it seemed he had watched her come alive as one might watch a flower slowly unfurling its silk petals. Now longer did she watch over her shoulder or tense in fear at the sounds around her. No longer did tears darken her eyes or her face pale in fear. Instead she rejoiced at all around them and listened to voices that he could not hear, of the wind, earth and trees. Her eyes were lit with laughter and her cheeks were coloured the pale rose of sunset.

She was now humming softly as she sat comfortably in one of the low hanging branches of the trees that allowed her to dangle her bare feet mere inches above the cool stream below her. Wisps of her dark hair had been undone by the caress of the wind as they galloped across the flat lands surrounding Gondor and her eyes were vibrant with life that he had never before seen in her. There was an impish playfulness that edged her breathtaking smile as she turned and watched him spread their light meal out on the grass beneath the trees that shone like emeralds in their new foliage. He could not resist the opportunity to enfold her slight form in his arms and walked towards her with light footsteps, nimbly pulling himself up beside her and drawing her close.

He listened as she sighed contentedly and leaned against him. It was still surprising to him, her comfort with him where once there had been fear. Her smile and laughter where there had been cries and pain. Her elven light that had been dimmed. Her jubilant spirit that brought a great deal of joy and peace to his own weary heart.

"The wind no longer whispers of war and darkness," she murmured languidly and he realized that she was falling asleep here in his arms and smiled.

"Of what does it speak, my lady," he asked lightly as he brushed his lips against her cheek.

"It speaks of peace and of the great age of men that is to come and of the sad parting of many elves," she paused, "but perhaps some will be drawn to remain."

He sat up straighter as a strange thought struck him and she stirred against him. He moved her so that he could look into her face, unsure if he should ask her what had been brought to his mind.

"Could you teach me?"

She turned and looked at him closely as he had obviously gained her interest.

"Teach you what?" she questioned curiously.

"To know the whisperings of the wind," he finished softly; knowing that if she should laugh his face would turn crimson.

"Few men have ever learned," she answered, "but it is only because they do not listen. They do not wish to hear what tidings it might bring whereas the elves have learned to accept them whether they be good or ill," she told him and he was suddenly struck by her immense wisdom. "It is not hard," she told him as she gently placed her hand over his heart and closed her eyes and he did the same without being told. "Now listen," she whispered.

He felt the beating of his heart more strongly with her hand upon it and as he sat close to her in silence he listened to the soft rise and fall of her breathing. Soon he heard her heart beating, not in time with his but to the time of all elves, in time with the earth itself. Then slowly he heard the slow, deep, voice of the earth beneath them and he felt a tremor of awe shake his body for never before had he felt such a strange sensation. Then the hurried whisperings of the trees that spoke of the two who sat in the clearing now, a strange pair, an elleth and a man. Then softly above them all came the many voices of the wind, clear and pure as they joined and spoke of all things that were endless and also all that must change; of life and of death, of elves and men, hobbits and dwarves, of all that had ever begun and of all that would someday end. It told of the one who sat beside him and whispered softly in his ear.

_Love her always for she is dear to us._

"_I promise,"_ he answered silently, unaware of how, just knowing that it somehow felt right as he opened his eyes and smiled at her knowing she had heard as well.

"I promise."

She smiled sadly, and he touched her cheek softly before dropping to the stream below them. He raised his arms and she moved easily towards him and he lifted her gently onto the shore. They ate the simple meal that he had brought them, sitting beneath a mighty maple and leaning against its sturdy trunk. She pulled her bare feet beneath the hem of her dress and settled against him as he leaned his head against the tree and felt wondrous sleep taking him now that he had eaten. He sighed and stilled as she moved so that her lay in his lap and she lay curled on the grass beside him. He smiled as he closed his eyes and stroked her smooth hair; letting her presence lull him to sleep as the wind blew gently round them.

He woke to the feeling of soft summer rain tracing patterns on his war-worn face. He tried not to move so he would not wake her but realized with a start that she was not where she had been when he had last been in this world and opened his eyes frantically searching for her. She stood, face upturned to the sky, eyes closed, hands at her side and at first he feared there was something wrong but noticed as he rose to his feet the look of eternal serenity that it seemed the rain wished to etch forever into her lovely features. She was soaked to the skin and he knew then it had been raining for some time but she did not seem to notice. He walked towards her soundlessly as his brothers had taught him many years ago. She was so beautiful, he was reminded once more as he watched her through the sky's tears.

Without speaking he took her hands in his own and massaged her palms with his thumbs and watched as a smile played on her lips and she looked up at him. In that moment he was overwhelmed with a desire for her in a way he had not felt before and it frightened him because he did not wish to force her or to frighten her but he was unable to keep himself from pressing his lips against hers, tracing her lips and going deeper until all he knew was her sweet taste as the rain streamed down their faces. Finally he forced himself to pull away and he stared into her lively eyes and watched the rain tracing the wondrous contours of her face. She smiled and he leaned forward and kissed her again, ever aware of even the slightest tremor or sign of fear as he tasted her and felt astounding pleasure as she timidly responded. They parted and his lips brushed hers once more before he spoke.

"I love you, Melleth," he whispered quietly, but his voice sounded loud compared to the falling rain.

"I love you," she returned as she laid her head against his chest and sighed contentedly while the rain continued to fall, its voice steady and never quiet as they stood together beneath the bows of the whispering trees.

* * *

Kar stood at his post above the City Gates and felt his worry deepen, as the sky grew dark early behind the steely clouds that brought the summer rains. He had watched as the King and Queen had ridden across the fields beneath the morning sun, neither saddle or bridle upon their mounts, each rode as if they were a part of the earth itself and it had left him speechless. However, it had been long since their leaving and he now worried for their safety although he knew his King was strong in battle he also knew that even the strong could fall. He decided then that if they were not back when the last light dimmed that he would send the guards to search for them. He had been head of the King's guard since he had ascended to the throne and had made it his personal task to ensure the safety of Elessar and now of his Queen as well.

He heard the sound of hooves below and heard one call for the raising of the gate and turned and ran the stairs that would take him to the gate where he would see that the King and Queen were both well and safe within the palace before he would go home to his wife and children. Both were soaked and he noticed with pride that cloaks were immediately brought for them as he walked towards the king. He turned however at the cries of the three guards at the gate as a horse raced through just as it closed.

Elessar drew his sword and stood in front of the Queen as he spoke to her in the tongue he now knew well enough to know that it was elvish and no more. The rider rode in the manner of the King and Queen and his mount bore no saddle, as he swung easily down. He did not raise his hands as the guards commanded but Kar could feel him staring at the king even though he could not see his eyes beneath the grey cloak he wore. He watched the tension in the Kings jaw vanish suddenly as he sheathed his sword and embraced the intruder during which time the rider's hood fell back and even Kar could see that he was elven kind, and a formidable looking elf at that.

* * *

There you have it. Next chapter should be up in about three weeks if I'm on my toes and not too swamped with my English essay. Can't wait to hear from you all! Hope you like it.

Onyx-worrystone: Welcome and I am glad that you like the story. Sorry that you had to wait so long but I should be faithful and update about every three weeks as I have two others stories to get out as well. Hope to hear from you again and I hope that you will continue to enjoy this! Thanks

Tadriendra of Mirkwood: Thanks, although I'm not sure it's a good thing I made you cry. No that is not the end and I think that your other questions were answered by this chapter. I'm glad you're liking it and think that it is a good story. I most definitely had fun while I was away but I'm glad to be back and writing again as well. Hope to hear from you again and thanks so much!

Estel-Ara: Thanks, some people think I am too long winded and get bored with my stories but I think that it's all in the details. Anyway, I didn't make them stay apart too long and we'll see if everyone will forgive him.. Spoiler: he will see them all within the next two or three chapters! Will update as soon as I can. Love hearing from you and glad to know you've stuck with me from the beginning. Thanks!

Ainariella: He's back and I'm glad that you are enjoying my story. I agree, I think they deserve each other but that would make sense since I'm the one writing it. Lol. Hope to hear from you again! Thnx

Moony June: Yes, this is your first review and I am glad to hear from you. Happy to know that I was missed and I hope that you will continue with my story until the end. Thanks so much for your review and I hope to hear from you again.

Telecontar: Glad to see that you missed me. You are one of my long time reviewers and I watched for your review after I posted. I am glad that you did not disappoint me and hope that I live up to your expectations. Totally planning to finish this story as it won't be as long as my other one, but rest assured we've still got some ground to cover before we're finished. Hope too hear from you again!

Lady Arian: Glad to hear from you! And Aragorn has definitely changed, and for the better I would say. Hope that you enjoyed this chapter. How is your story idea coming? I haven't heard from you again. When you get it posted e-mail me and let me know, I'm anxious to see how it turns out! Til next time….

Karone Evertree: That's alright, a random review that's a little late just makes my day. Hope that you are feeling better and have to say that I am flattered that I was awe inspiring. Hope this next update is as enjoyable for you. Can't wait to hear from you again! Thanks so much!

Blistered Avalon: Glad you're patient and that you found it was worth it. Hope that the story continued to get better for you. Thanks!

Shary: Not much to say except thank you so much and that I hope that I continue to hear from you and that you continue to enjoy my story!


	16. Come Home

This chapter and the few others that will be like it is the second reason for my "M" rating, the first being Saeorii's abuse in the beginning. Will not get graphic or even very detailed but better safe than sorry. Enjoy!

Chapter sixteen: Come Home

The day had been long and Aragorn was weary for the two weeks since his return to the White City had been filled with endless councils as he was told what had passed during his absence. The day he had spent in the forest with his wife seemed long ago indeed, as did the evening they had spent with Glorfindel upon his unexpected arrival. He knew with a heavy heart that things in his council would not change until some were removed from it and despite their animosity towards him, he felt reluctant to do so, although he knew he must for the good of his people. Many hours in the past days had been spent with Ilterrin who had become his confidant in such matters for he agreed with his decision that his council must be remade.

Tomorrow a special council was to be held, early in the morning at first light for the rest of the day would be spent preparing for a great celebration that had been planned for Gondor during his absence. Much food and many people had journeyed from the farthest reaches of Middle-earth although he felt greatly the absence of Eomer and Eowyn for they remained in Rohan, still angry with him for his previous misdeeds. He could not blame them.

He sighed deeply, feeling very lonely as he watched the horizon turn brilliant with the light of the setting sun, casting a golden glow upon the walls and floor. He could hear the voice of the people of his city far below him and the sound of the birds above him. He longed to be away from here and he looked once more to the letter that had been the purpose of Glorfindel's visit. He had read it so many times that the edges were worn and the words repeated themselves in his mind.

_Estel,_

_I have laboured many hours over the writing of this letter and am still unsure of how to say what I wish. It has been far too long since last I saw you and my concern for your well being is foremost in my thoughts at all times. I fear that you shall be lost to me as is Arwen; I fear that I shall lose you to the shadow of her death and that I shall never again see your smile or hear your laughter before the time comes that I must leave these shores. I know of the pain that you feel for she was my own flesh and blood but I shall rest easy knowing that she has been taken to Mandos Halls where no harm shall ever threaten her again. This too must be your comfort for if you do not find comfort in something I fear that I shall lose you as well. Please, return to me once more that I should not have to mourn the death of you also. Know you could never do anything or become anyone that would make me love you any less. Please, come home, ion nin. I love you,_

_Ada_

The last words were slightly smudged with his father's tears and felt his own as he set down the letter and looked out the great windows behind him but not even his father's reassurances could ease the fear he felt when he thought of making the journey to his realm. The sun's light began to dim and his thoughts wound round in circles and his body tensed. The words of Glorfindel resounded in his mind.

_"I wish that you would come with me, mellon nin, for my heart protests my leaving," the elf spoke softly as they stood outside the gates to the White City. "I would wait for you."_

_He shook his head reluctantly._

"Nay, I cannot venture to that sacred realm yet, but know that I shall come someday," he answered, trying to keep his voice light.

"_And I shall welcome you with open arms, as will all who still dwell there. You are most dear to my heart, Estel," said he and Aragorn found himself drawn into the elf's hearty embrace. _

"_As are you to mine, my friend. I have missed you and will long for the day when you shall come to me once again," he answered, his voice thick with tears for his answer had told the elf that it would be long indeed before he would come to Rivendell and he saw the unspoken sorrow in the eyes of his friend and wished that he could take his words back. He stood silently watching as his old friend mounted and rode off across the Fields of Pelennor to distant lands that he now longed for more than he ever remembered._

He was startled by a light knock on the door and called for whoever wished to enter. He expected Ilterrin or one of the councillors but his heart warmed as he saw that it was she.

She walked noiselessly towards him, smiling sadly as she leaned against the desk beside him that was no less cluttered than when he had come here early that afternoon. Her presence was soothing but his mind was still weighted with the task of the next day, his heart pained by the letter that was once more in his hand.

"What troubles you this night?" she questioned quietly and he was amazed once more at her ability to offer him comfort when he needed it most.

"Nothing, now that you are with me," he replied neatly evading her question as he leaned forward and winced as his taught muscles strongly protested the movement.

"You will not get out of this that easily," she told him but the blush on her cheeks told him that she had not missed the affection in his voice.

"I am worried," he paused, and looked up into her eyes before continuing. "What if I am doing the wrong thing?" he asked the same question that he had asked her many times before. "What if it would be best to leave things as they are?"

"You know in your heart that this is best," she assured him once more as she had each time he asked, "Your strength is in your heart and in your wisdom. Rely on them and not the opinion of other men. You will make the choice that is best for Gondor, have faith in yourself." She paused and looked at the letter that was still in his hand. "And what of this?"

"I know not," he admitted wearily, "I wish so much to see him again but I fear what he will think of me, despite what he says. He knows not what I have done."

"Perhaps he knows better than you imagine," she stated quietly as she brushed her hand against his.

He turned his head to look at her and grunted in pain, the knots in his shoulders too tightly wound to be undone by mere use. He reached up and rubbed his neck roughly hoping to untangle the knots that had formed there during his afternoon of deep thought. His shoulders were tight as well and he felt as sore as if he had been fighting a terrible battle since dawn. He set the letter down so he could use both hands and closed his eyes as he felt tiny shots of pain shoot through his neck and down his spine. He was startled when he felt her smooth hands cover his own and he sensed her move closer timidly.

"Let me," she instructed and softly guided his hands to rest on the arms of his chair as she placed her own gently on his broad shoulders and began to press and pull gently, slowly unwinding the knots.

He closed his eyes and allowed himself to simply enjoy the feeling of her closeness and the relief that her soft touch brought as she kneaded his shoulders with tenderness and a soft hand only gifted to the elven kind. Time passed wondrously slowly as she soothed his weary body, humming softly the songs of the Eldar as she did so. He did not protest when her hands shifted and moved further up his neck and she was compelled to take another step closer in order to reach. At her gentle touch he leaned forward slightly and sighed contentedly as her hands moved slowly and skilfully across his upper back and shoulders once more. She ceased only when the light of the evening stars and waning moon bathed the room in pure silver light.

He finally opened his eyes and smiled at her as she shone softly in the starlight and looked at him shyly, having rarely been so close to him as she was now, standing in front of him so that the waves of fabric she wore brushed gently against his chest and he reached up and cupped the side of her face in his strong hand, stroking it with cherished tenderness. She smiled at him and he felt his heart melt as he wrapped one arm about her willowy waist and guided her to sit, balanced upon his knee. He took one of her small hands in his as he leaned forward slightly and kissed her precious lips, keeping one arm about her to steady her as he drew her gently closer. She tasted of the first berries of summer that he had asked to be found for her. Her scent was fresh like rain and her cheek was smooth beneath his hand. They parted and he let her rest against him as he looked out at the stars. He chuckled softly as he heard her stifled yawn.

"You are tired, Melleth," he admonished quietly.

Her only reply was an inaudible murmur and he sat up carefully as stroked her satin hair. She did not stir and he knew from the unvaried rhythm of her light breathing that she was now quite soundly asleep, trusting that he would keep her safe while she slept. With the utmost care he moved her so that he could gather her slight form in his arms without disturbing her for it seemed though her body had healed, she still tired easily. He wondered with slight guilt how long it would be before the nightmares came no more, before she ate more than a few bites to a time, before she could be at ease among mortals, before she could forget what had been done to her. He sighed deeply as he realized that this thing that he wished for would never be. There would always be nightmares, always be fears, always be the scars that their hands had left upon her.

He stood, and did not even feel her weight as he walked carefully towards the door, shifting her slightly so that he could open it. The halls were silent for the hour was late and few now walked these halls that were so full of life during the day. She began to stir slightly, sensing his movements despite his caution but he whispered to her softly and soon she returned to profound and peaceful sleep. The guards at the door to their rooms merely smiled and opened the doors without a word. Those with whom he had charged with her care were only those he trusted above all else and were fiercely loyal to her. He knew that none would ever reach her without slaying many men for it seemed that all his guards held a special place for their timorous queen in their hearts and would forsake all else for her safety.

He heard the doors close quietly behind him as he passed through the dark outer rooms into their bedchambers. He laid her small form on their bed, gently spreading the velvet blanket over her before he moved across the room and closed the door. He changed into a pair of loose breaches and a tunic before laying down next her on their massive bed. She looked so serene as she had that day in the clearing beneath the gentle rain and he felt an overwhelming love for her that went deeper than anything he had ever known. He marvelled at how each of them seemed to give strength to the other despite their own fears and weakness'. He kissed her temple tenderly and lovingly pulled her close and settled down beside her; sighing contentedly as she moved closer to him in her slumber before he yawned and closed his eyes feeling suddenly all the weariness that he had been ignoring.

"I love you, Melleth," he whispered softly as he joined her in the realm of dreams.

* * *

Ilterrin stood silently, waiting for the summons from the guards to come that the entire council was gathered and ready for the king with whom he waited. Elessar stood looking out the window at the city below and he could tell that this was where his friend wished to be at this moment. He knew that Elessar's heart was burdened at the thought of the many who would be forced to leave his councils forever. He knew that his friend cared for these people who sought to ruin him and destroy what he was now attempting to rebuild for he knew they were ignorant to what it was that they were doing. He still wondered at the unfailing compassion of this man for he knew that he would not be so understanding or forgiving were he in the king's place.

Saeorii stood faithfully at his side, still in her robe and nightgown for the day was early. She had woken with the king and now whispered soft words in a tongue he could not understand as she linked his fingers with hers. The king rested his cheek against her head and he could see some of the tension ease but he knew that it would not leave him completely until the task at hand was finished. There was a knock at the door and Elessar kissed her forehead lovingly before standing tall and becoming once more the strong king of Gondor that would do what was best for the sake of his people.

He followed Elessar's long strides through the halls and down the stairs towards the chambers and entered only seconds before and noticed that all stood as the King walked in behind him. There would be no pleasantries this day and all seemed to sense his intentions from his grave face and even those who openly mocked him seemed slightly uneasy and perhaps even a little afraid as he stood before them and motioned them to sit. He was dressed in a deep green tunic beneath a black cloak and as he shifted slightly Ilterrin caught sight of Anduril hanging at his side and shivered.

"Today's council I fear will be briefer than most would like," the king began gravely, "and your part to play in it will be very small, for it is time that you learned a little of me and my history so that you can better understand what I intend for the future." He paused and let this digest before he continued. "I was born the son of a Ranger of the North, the Chief of the Dunedain, but I do not remember my father for he died before my third year. My mother and I were taken to the realm of Lord Elrond who treated me like his son and became like my father. I grew and soon began to travel the lands with my brothers, as the darkness had begun even then to grow stronger and cause unease to those gifted with foresight.

"It was not until my eighteenth birthday that I was told that I was destined to be the King of Gondor, and the last living heir of Isildur. I refused, claiming that I would never hold such a title and I fled from the lands that I had known since my childhood. I vowed never to return. I vowed that I would never be called the king of men." Ilterrin watched closely as those present listened for very little of the King was known to those of Gondor. He could also perceive surprise in a few who obviously assumed that he had been born planning to journey to Gondor and disrupt the way that things had always been. "I spent many years wandering among men. I spent a good deal of time in Gondor and Rohan before I was led to return to the West. There I joined the Dunedain and rode with them for many years, protecting the lands that still were ours. The shadows grew darker, the lands more dangerous and the enemy stronger until at last I was called to return to the house of my father.

"It was there that I met for the first time Lord Boromir and he told me of the suffering of the people of this fair city. He asked, was there not someone who might help them? I knew then that I could not refuse for I knew the people of this city; I had dwelt with them and kept watch over people like them for years. Our journey took us through the mountains, 'neath the golden leaves of Lorien, across the plains of the Riddermark and to here where it seemed I saw this kingdom and its hurting people for the first time." The deep voice of the King was mesmerizing and he knew that all present were spellbound by his words and the pained sorrow in his eyes.

"It was these people, those who now dwell within these walls that spurred me on and gave me courage to ride towards the black gates without fear. It was for them that I took the crown of Gondor, never was it for any betterment of myself, for despite my crown and title I will only ever be a Ranger, a man of the North, nothing more. I still feel guilt when I think how much longer these good people were made to suffer because of my own selfish pride and I hope that someday I will have done enough that they might forgive me of my transgressions." His head was bowed and his voice was low as he spoke and Ilterrin could hear his shame and knew that he did not speak empty words, but words made strong by truth.

"It is for these people that I release many of you from my service," the room was heavy with silence and as the king looked up Ilterrin could see the burning anger in his sterling eyes. "I will no longer stand by and watch the people of Gondor, my people, suffer needlessly when I now have to power to change that. Many of you think I am unworthy to be your king and you are right but I will not let your hatred for me condemn my people to a life of misery. They shall live free from worry and pain once more as in the days of old for if you think I have forgotten those tales, indeed you are mistaken. They are in my heart as they have always been.

"But today is not a day of continuing with what once was. No, today is a day of a new age. This age shall be as nothing that ever was before and we shall surpass the glory of the days of which many stories are told. The name of the White City shall be upon the lips of all and all shall wonder at its splendour. Those who are weary of heart may come here seeking rest and an end to their wearisome burden. Here they shall find peace, and joy, but most of all may they find life. For now we begin a new era and those of darkness and fear shall fall away. This is the beginning of the Fourth Age when the greatness of men shall return and our failings shall pass away out of all remembrance that those who come after us may know only greatness and peace. May all of you live to see that day. That day when the sun that rises in the east will pale in comparison to the Flame that burns in the West!"

With his final statement the king drew Anduril from his side and held it high. Behind him the sun rose with glorious golden splendour and the light fell upon the sword so that it shone brighter than anything he had ever seen. The room was bathed in it and all but a few looked away from the light as the king began to sing softly in an ancient tongue. To Ilterrin it seemed as if they had been taken back many years to the times when men were full of courage and valour and the earth was young and little was changed by mortal hand.

The crown that Elessar wore burned silver across his brow and his face was changed and all looked at him in awe, as they saw in him the greatness of the Eldar kings that had long passed and were now watching with pride as the King stood once more, the leader and strength of Gondor who would not falter. Elessar's eyes were piercing and reminded him of what he had heard of the White Lady and all but a few turned from him, unwilling to let their king know their hearts. Only the great few who did not turn from him would sit on that council when next they met and those who did not would feel lesser than they had been. It was said that the Council of Elessar was the greatest ever made among men; their spirits courageous, their hearts true, and their words wisest among men. These were the men most like the he who led them.

* * *

Aragorn sighed contentedly as the doors closed behind them and they were finally allowed the wondrous sensation of silence. Their past hours had been spent among the people of Gondor who laughed and danced upon the Field of Pelennor as had not been done in many years. His heart rejoiced to see them so happy and full of life. He glanced at Saeorii who stood on the balcony, looking up at the stars and listening to those who were still singing below amid the lamps that winked at them from the dark. He smiled as he walked restlessly towards their bedroom, drawn towards the letter that he knew he would find there. He could not leave it. He picked it up as he sat on the edge of their bed and read it again; having longed ago memorized its every syllable.

_Please, come home, ion nin. I love you._

He missed his father and brothers so much. He wanted to see his father, Gandalf and Frodo before they sailed from these shores to which he as a mortal was bound. He wished that he had the wings of an eagle to carry him to there. He wished that he could find the fastest horse and ride there with the greatest haste and hear the wise voice of his father one last time. He wished to hear the blustering anger of his friend the wizard and look into his eyes that burned with truth and purpose. Lastly, he wished that he could see the face of the one to whom he pledged his life before he sailed to a land where he would no longer feel the pain that his burden had left him with. He bowed his head and let the hot tears slide silently down his face as he longed for all these things and knew that none of them could be.

So complete and overwhelming was his grief that he did not hear her as she entered. He did not see her as she gazed at him sadly for a moment before walking with unsure steps towards him. He did not see her as she knelt and picked up the letter that had fallen at his feet and place it on the small stand beside him. It was only when he felt the smoothness of her hand upon his cheek as she wiped his tears that he knew she was there with him. He looked up at her through his tears and saw that her cheeks were stained with tears shed for him and his sorrow.

"Elessar, you must go to them," she whispered softly as she looked without fear into his eyes and he could not understand the love reflected in her own.

"Only if you will go with me," he answered, his voice rough with tears as he traced her face with his hand.

"Of course I will, if you wish me to go," she answered quietly, still after so much time unsure of his affection for her and her own worth. He stood and took her slender hands in his.

"I could not bear to be gone so long without you. As long as you will have me I shall stay at your side for all the years that are gifted to me. I love you, Melleth," he murmured as he felt his desire for her overwhelm him once more and he gently led her towards him and kissed her deeply.

He traced the satin curves of her lips slowly before going further and he felt his heartbeat quicken as she hesitantly responded. Slowly he moved his hand so that he cradled her head as he stepped closer and pulled her against him, the small amount of space that had been between them unbearable. He could feel her heart beating against him and felt an ardent longing to know every part of her but his concern for her forced him to pull himself away. For a moment he could not look at her but when he finally felt himself drawn inevitably towards her enchanting eyes and fair face he knew that his bare desire was reflected plainly in his eyes. She did not turn away though as he had feared, nor did she tremble when his longing was laid plainly before her. It was then he knew that the love he felt for her, that was the source of his desire, was shown in his eyes as well.

She reached up and gently brushed an unruly lock of hair from his face and looked at him with a trust that was frightened him as she laid her hand against his heart. No words were needed and he carefully bent towards her slowly, ever attentive to any shiver or sign of fear as he slowly began to release the ardour that was contained within himself. She returned his attentions, ever more the free and unafraid elleth that had been revealed to him in the clearing that day. He softly trailed down her neck and felt a wondrous sensation as she laughed lightly. He paused and looked down at her; her eyes shone brilliantly as she looked back at him.

He pulled back slightly and undid the heavy silk cape bearing his colours and the white tree of his city before drawing her near once more and kissing her more deeply than ever before, unable to have his hunger for her taste satisfied as he began with skilful hands to undo the fastens of her dress that traced her back. Then he slid the satin dress from her alabaster shoulders and let it fall soundlessly at her feet as he turned and lifted her easily onto their bed. He had never seen anything so beautiful as she as she lay upon their bed and waited for him to come to her, which he did without urging and captured her lips once more. Soon nothing was between them and he looked at his enchanting nymph one last time before falling into a wonderful and peaceful sleep.

Next he knew the sun was casting strange shadows within their chambers and his thoughts immediately returned the night before and a smile found its way to his lips as he turned and looked at her lying next to him. Her satin skin glowed beautifully in the morning light as he traced the lines of her bare shoulders before pulling the silk sheets to cover her slightly so that she would not be cold. Her dark hair, now only falling to the small of her back, fell about her like water and hid her beautiful face from him. Carefully he slid closer and brushed it back to that he could watch her while she slept.

Some time passed before it seemed at last she sensed him watching her and she opened her dark eyes to look at him once more. She smiled at him and turned so that she lay on her back looking up at him and he leaned over and brushed his lips teasingly against hers.

"Good morning, Melleth," he greeted her, his voice husky as he drew closer to her once again and kissed her deeply.

She pulled herself up slightly and answered his request. The sheets fell away from her and he traced her soft back with his rough hand as she drew closer to him until he could feel her soft curves against him again. The first time the knock came he ignored it, hoping that whoever it was would leave but the second time he knew that he must answer it. He pulled away from her, resting his forehead against hers and sighed deeply; she giggled softly.

"You had better answer the door," she whispered softly and he moved to the edge of the bed and pulled his robe around himself, tying it as he walked towards the door and opened it only partway.

"Good morning, Maeve," he answered, telling her immediately who stood outside.

"Good morning, King Elessar. Pardon me for interrupting but when Saeorii did not come to breakfast I worried that she might be ill," and Saeorii could see her lady attempting to see in the room past her husband who looked back at her and smiled wearily.

He watched as she pulled the sheets around herself and leaned around the curtains slightly so that Maeve could see her, although it was obvious what state she was in and Aragorn felt some satisfaction as he watched crimson colour Maeve's cheeks.

"I am quite well, Maeve," she answered kindly, "I thank you for your concern."

"Please forgive me," Maeve apologized as she backed away, now smiling broadly at the king as he closed the door, and he returned her smile, nodding formally as the door latched.

"Now," he stated as he returned to his wife's side and she pulled against him, laying her head on his chest, "where were we," he asked as he leaned closer and closer towards her until they met, wonderfully oblivious to the city that continued on around them as the sun rose and the wind sang of love and life.

* * *

There you have it! Little longer than usual but I had to cover a lot of ground in one chapter to start the next one where I wanted to. Anyway, hope you will continue to read as the story isn't finished yet!

Tadriendra of Mirkwood: Sorry about the grammar, definitely not my strong point but I'm glad that you were able to muddle through it. Sorry that it wasn't Legolas but know that he will be coming soon! Hope it wasn't too much of a disappointment. Glad that you understand schoolwork. Thanks so much for your review and I hope that I continue to hear from you!

Estel-Ara: Boy a lot of people were counting on Legolas. Hope you weren't too disappointed and he will be coming. Anyway, thanks for the review and I'll hear from you next time.

Tommylover: Glad your enjoying, here you go and I will update as soon as my other stories allow! Thanks!

onyx-worriestone: Glad that I could brighten your day, your review brightened mine!

Karone Evertree: Sorry to end your happy dance. Get ready to do it for real soon though because Legolas is coming. Hope I didn't ruin your week or anything and I hope you enjoy this chapter as well. Liked the Brego moment myself, but then again I wrote it. Anyway, thanx!

EldarChild: Glad you like it and know that I will definitely continue my story. I'd hate to leave you hanging. Hope to hear from you again! Thnx!

Blistered Avalon: Glad that I didn't disappoint you. Hope that you liked this chapter too! And I did better than I expected on my essays. Hope you continue to read and enjoy this story. Thanks so much!

LadyArian: Thanks so much! I am glad that you like them both and I hope that you continue you to read them both. I think you read almost all my fic's that's really cool. Hope to hear from you again!

Randomisation: Neither one actually. I think that everyone will be really surprised to see that it was Glorfindel since he's not a character in the movie. He plays a larger role in the novels and so I thought that I should include him too. Hope that you will continue to read and enjoy my story! Thank ya!

Ainariella: Glad that you thought that was a nice chapter. If you thought that one was long though this ones even longer. Hope that you liked this one as well and I hope to hear from you again! Thanks!

Shary: Definitely flattered and I am glad that you like my characters. I was afraid when I started this that people would resent Saeorii for taking Arwen's place but I haven't had one single complaint which makes me happy. I hope that you like this chapter and I will update as soon as I am able. Thank you so very much!


	17. Finally Find Rest

Chapter Seventeen: Finally Find Rest

Elrond sat, watching the gentle breath of the wind stir the fresh summer leaves. He sighed deeply as he remembered summers before that had been full of joy. Summers before Celebrian had sailed, summers before they knew of the darkness, summers before Arwen left him. He felt painfully lonely despite the fact that many had come in the past days for the final council for which he would ever be present here in Middle earth. In mere weeks he and those who were to sail with him would journey to Mithlond and float away forever towards the White shores. He longed to see Estel one last time, to know that his son was safe for it seemed even in times of relative peace Estel had been able to find trouble.

He turned from the window as the sun began to dip lower and lower towards the high hills around his home. Elladan and Elrohir would take his place as lord of this realm once he left, and Glorfindel would do the same in Lorien for it seemed that the Lady's realm was never far from his friend's thoughts. He began pacing restlessly, wondering if he had time to reach Gondor if he left immediately after the council tomorrow and still reach Mithlond in time. Surely Gandalf could care for the hobbits to the Haven.

It was decided then, he would leave for Gondor late tomorrow so long as the weather held and he had not much doubt of this for even in the north the summers were fair. He immediately sat at his desk and began writing instructions for his sons and Glorfindel. Perhaps he could even convince Legolas to accompany him for he knew that the elf still cared for Estel a great deal although he could no longer bring himself to stay within that city. Yes, he smiled as he thought about seeing his son again and was deep in thought trying to determine the least amount of days in which he could make the journey when there was a hurried knock on the door.

"Come in," he stated absently.

"Lord Elrond, I bring you great news," exclaimed the excited young warrior who ran in at his permission.

Elrond was so startled that he looked up at the elf and could see by his expression that the news he carried must be of some importance.

"Well, what is it?" he asked slightly sharper than he had intended but the elf seemed not to notice and continued quickly.

"The King is coming!"

Elrond wondered now if the elf had been drinking a little much wine and told him so asking whether or not he still had his senses.

"The only elven king is already within these borders so unless you are aware of a new king that I am not I believe you should leave and we will forget that anything of this sort was ever said."

The elf seemed slightly offended by this but continued to try and make his meaning known.

"Not the king of elves, my lord," he explained slightly slower as Elrond's heart stopped in his chest. It could not be. "The king of all men has come to us, King Elessar of Arnor!" he exclaimed triumphantly.

"Where?" Elrond demanded frantically as he stood, his letter and all thoughts pertaining to it forgotten.

"He is walking one of the trails from the ford that is seldom used. He wished his presence to be made known only to you at this time and sent me here with much haste that I might tell you of his coming."

Elrond could not help but laugh simply from sheer joy and he knew the young elf was confused by his behaviour as he fled from the room without another word. His feet carried him to a path he knew had been a favourite of Estel's as a child and could hardly believe that he might find him walking it as he had wished for such a long time. He raced down the stairs and out into one of his private gardens knowing that he would find no other than the one he sought.

At the edge of a hill he stopped, the image before him paralysing him as he stood at the top of the stone stairway for there stood Estel, just as he had remembered him. He walked with long strides that were sure and unafraid in these woods that he knew so well. His broad shoulders conveyed the massive strength Elrond knew him to possess yet his movements were all that was gentle as he guided the lady beside him that Elrond did not recognize. He stood wondering who this could be when Estel looked up and noticed him watching them.

His son stopped, unsure of whether he was to be met with kindness or anger and Elrond descended the stairs towards them slowly, not trusting his own strength as he began to feel the weight of his son's presence. Estel's eyes were not shadowed, nor did he turn away when Elrond sought to meet his gaze. Showed there was his son's apprehension, but also his wisdom that surpassed what he had possessed when last they met. Elrond paused at the bottom of the stairs, feeling tears that he let fall without shame as his son took one timid step towards him.

It was all the encouragement that Elrond needed and immediately he went to his son, his arms open wide as he embraced him tightly and felt the wondrous sensation of his embrace being returned. He wept for joy at the return of his lost son, unable to speak aloud all that he felt, as they stood there unmoving for some time until at last he pulled away, holding his son at arms length. He laid his hand gently on his broad shoulder and smiled through his waning tears.

"Welcome home, ion nin. I have missed you."

"And I have missed you, Adar," his son answered affectionately and finally Elrond released him as Estel turned and reached back for the hand of the lovely lady who had stood watching them, smiling silently.

"Adar, I would be honoured to introduce you to the Lady of Arnor, my wife, Saeorii," he stated and Elrond did not miss the tone of admiration and love in his son's voice and rejoiced having feared that it might have been lost forever with Arwen.

"You are most welcome her, my child," he told her warmly as he took her hand from Estel and embraced her tenderly.

"Thank you, Lord Elrond," she answered and he was struck by the distant sorrow in her deep eyes.

"Please, no such titles shall we use for you are now my daughter," he insisted kindly as he took her arm and led her towards the house.

He looked back at Estel who smiled at him with pleasure and relief before placing his arm fondly around his youngest son and kissing his forehead as they continued through the gardens, basking in the gold of the setting sun.

* * *

Saeorii stood and sighed with contentment as she looked out at the legendary valley while it lay sleeping in the morning mists that seemed reluctant to surrender to the sun that was turning the sky crimson in the east. She pulled the tunic and robe that Elessar had given her to wear after his father insisted that her own be cleaned after their long travel from Gondor. She smiled to herself as the shirt slipped down one of her shoulders again as she was reminded how broad her husband's shoulders were.

She closed her eyes and breathed deeply the scent of the forest and the freshness of the morning dew and felt tears sting her eyes. It seemed surreal that so many years later she had finally reached the place she had been going on that day that she had been taken. She took great comfort in the murmuring of the trees and the rushing falls. This truly felt like home to her. Here among the elves whose soft voices were like music to her ears after so many years of having been held by men.

She sighed as she wondered, not for the first time, what her life would have been like had she not been taken by men. If, as she had purposed, she had reached Rivendell and been trained as a healer. Would she feel the stinging pain of past memories or have known such hurt as was forced upon her? She knew the answer to these questions was no, but then she wondered if she would have ever met Estel. Even if she had, would she have come to love him as she did now? She turned and watched him as he slept easy here in his father's house and amid those who were familiar to him though they did not yet know that he had come. She loved him with all her being.

Here in the early morning in this sacred realm the darkness of her past seemed to fade as she watched the sun rise slowly above the sleeping earth. Here among the elves she could be at ease while the one she loved slept nearby. Her heart rejoiced this morning and she felt perfect peace as the first birds of the morning began their song. She leaned against the pillar behind her and closed her eyes willing that this feeling should never end as she smiled up at the sky above her.

Aragorn shifted and moved to pull her closer to him and was at first slightly alarmed to find her missing. He opened his eyes and rolled over and saw her shadow dimly against the pale light of the dawn and relaxed. He studied her now without her knowing and felt deep contentment to know that she would be with him for the rest of his years no matter how short they might be. His loose tunic could not hide her slender figure and in his mind it looked much better on her than himself. Her feet were bare and her hair let down to fall softly around her and he knew he could not have thought her more beautiful if she had been dressed in the most stunning silks and draped with all the jewels in the halls of dwarves.

He stood and walked softly towards her and wrapped his arms around her slender waist as he leaned close to her and grazed his lips against her soft neck. She sighed and leaned against him and he turned her so that he could look at her. She smiled at him.

"Good morning," she greeted him languidly and he was reminded how much he loved the sound of her voice. He kissed her gently once before answering.

"Good morning, Melleth.

She laid her head against his chest as he pulled her close as she sighed deeply.

"I feel as if I have finally come home," she whispered and he smiled as they stood simply listening to all that was around them as the sun rose steadily in the sky.

"So do I," he answered, quietly as he listened to the soft whispering of the wind as she had once taught him. "So do I."

* * *

Frodo stood watching as all those he had missed were once more reunited. He was saddened to know that these were the last of his days here in Rivendell but worse was the fact that the one he wished to see most was noticeably absent. Legolas had told him, short days after their arrival that Aragorn would not be coming, he also stated that Aragorn was not what he had once been. The death of Arwen had changed him. This however, only made Frodo wish to see his friend more in hopes that he might do something for the man who had done so much for him. He sighed and politely excused himself from Gimli's side.

He looked up at the many faces around him, most were elven, many he recognized like those belonging to the sons of Elrond and Glorfindel, and others were unfamiliar. He was startled though to see among them the face of the Steward who sat by himself seeming content merely to be in such a place. He smiled as Frodo called to him and stood, bowing slightly before sitting down again as Frodo took the chair beside him.

"I did not know you were here, Faramir or I would have tried to find you sooner," he apologized.

"Think nothing of it my friend for I have been kept quite busy by Elrond's sons who have insisted on showing me every part of this wonderful realm."

"And do you like it," Frodo asked, remembering well the Steward's fondness for the elven folk.

"Aye, tis a beautiful place. Not even the forests of Ithilien can compare to its splendour."

Frodo let a comfortable silence fall between them but finally he could keep no longer from asking the question that burned in his heart.

"How is Aragorn?" Frodo felt fear as the man before him frowned.

"I am sure that you have been told of the shadow that has fallen over my dear king," he began and Frodo feared what he might speak, "but when I left him it seemed to have lifted although I have not seen him for some months for I have been away from Gondor for some time now."

Frodo sighed and Faramir laid his hand on his shoulder.

"Take heart little one," he stated kindly and Frodo tried to smile but could not seem to summon the emotion that went with it.

He was startled as he heard Faramir gasp, and the man's hand fell from his shoulder. The voices around them grew still and it seemed as if time had come to an end as Frodo turned to look behind him. His heart stopped. He thought for a moment that his eyes were deceiving him as he looked upon the familiar face of his most dear friend. For a moment Frodo studied him, looking for the shadow of which he had been told but could not find it. He was startled as the two elves that stood guard at the archway before the council announced his presence.

"All rise for King Elessar and the Lady of Arnor," they stated formerly and Frodo was confused by their title until he remembered Gandalf telling of the Northern Kingdom once ruled by men by which the great of Gondor were still called among the elves.

His friend looked every bit the King of Men as he stood silently watching the faces of all around him. He was dressed in the colours of his kingdom and upon his breast was the White Tree of Arnor. Upon his brow was the silver crown and at his side was the most beautiful lady that Frodo had ever beheld. She seemed unsure of herself as she stood next to the king and Frodo wondered when he saw that she too wore a crown and was dressed simply in the colours of Gondor. He felt his heart leap into his throat as his friends piercing silver eyes came to rest on him and he felt wondrous joy as the weary face smiled at him warmly.

It seemed that all were unsure of what should be said and done but Frodo could contain his excitement no longer and laughed aloud as raced towards his former companion and the man knelt and embraced him fiercely.

"It is wonderful to see you, Frodo," and Frodo felt relief at the familiar sound of the man's deep voice.

Legolas turned with Elladan and Elrohir at the elves announcement and the sound of the hobbit's laughter and Legolas felt as if he had been physically struck as he watched the man embrace their small friend and join in his laughter. He did not breathe as he watched his friend as he listened to the hobbit's exuberant exclamations. It was some time before he turned and Legolas was able to catch his eye. He watched his friend's expression turn to shame as he stood, taking the arm of the elleth beside him as they began to walk towards him.

The shadow he had seen was gone and his friend seemed again what he had once been. There was wisdom and laughter in his eyes as he stood in front of him, obviously unsure of where to begin. Legolas was not and smiled warmly as he stepped towards the man and embraced him gently, leaving no room for doubt in his friend's mind as he stated softly,

"Welcome, Estel, it is good to see you, gwador nin."

He was not startled to find his embrace returned and was reminded again of his friend's strength before they parted. He looked at his friend and then to the lady who stood beside him and the crown she bore told him that this was she of whom Faramir had told him. However, the fair steward's words had not done her justice as he looked into her deep eyes. Her dark beauty was strange for an elleth but was enchanting all the same and he did not miss the adoration in his friend's eyes as he looked at his wife. Legolas placed his hand over his heart and bowed slightly in elven greeting and was rewarded with a lovely smile.

"Please, Prince, Elessar has told me that you are as much his brother as any other and I would wish that you would treat me as your sister, not the Queen of Gondor as my title proclaims."

"Then you must call me, Legolas, my lady, and allow me to greet you as is fitting," he stated as he embraced her gently and kissed her cheek. He was very aware of the curious glances of the others as she pressed his hand gently before taking her husband's arm again.

"My king."

Legolas turned to see the man who had fast become one of his closest friends as the young steward walked towards them, his amazement at his king's appearance telling plainly he had no known of his coming as he knelt before them.

"Please, Faramir, rise," instructed Estel softly, and Legolas was glad to see the friendship between them as they clasped hands in the manner of elven warriors. "I long to hear of your doings in Ithilien since I left you," and Legolas smiled as he watched his friend speak with a kindness that had been absent when he and Gimli took their leave of Gondor some month's ago.

The young man was not given time to answer however as the twins finally burst forth as they greeted their younger brother and his new bride warmly. Everything was as it should be once more and Legolas smiled at Elrond who stood watching from the archway knowing the elder elf would now be content to leave Middle earth, having been assured of his son's well being.

* * *

Aragorn watched the face of his elven friend carefully as they walked together in the evening twilight. The council had gone well and he knew now that all would be as it should be. Only one thing had surprised him, and truly it amazed him still as he thought of it here among the peace and quiet of the forest with none but Legolas beside him.

"As you know, I shall soon sail for the White Shores to join my wife Celebrian who has passed on before me. Fear not though, for I leave this realm in the best of hands. My sons, whom I trust above all else shall be in charge of its care. Elladan and Elrohir shall watch here and care for all the weary who should come here seeking rest but only for a time for I do not wish them to stay here if there hearts should lead them to follow me. So, I shall leave this place to the care of my son, now called Elessar."

_Aragorn remembered having stared at his father in startled amazement, his father had only smiled._

"_Yes Estel, one day this shall be your home as you have always desired. One day your sons shall rise up and rule the realms of men from Arnor to Gondor. They shall be called great among all men, but no man shall be called as great as you. Your years shall be many, more than those of any other man for the light of the elves burns brighter in you than in those who have come before you. Anduril shall return to where it once lay, waiting for your hand to guide it. You shall dwell here away from the dangers of the world but when those who you love are threatened you shall again take up the sword and stand against the darkness. For always will you be Hope, to all who shall dwell in this place for many, many years to come. Those who come here will be made well by your skilled hand and made easy by your kindness, those who are weak shall be made strong by your wisdom."_

"Of what are you thinking, Estel," Legolas asked quietly and Aragorn realized they had walked far without a single word.

"Only of what Adar told me today. I cannot believe he expects such things from one such as I. After all that I have done to my people, he believes that I will be called great and bring healing to those in need. I cannot see it," he stated bitterly.

"Why must you think so little of yourself, my brother. I have known you many years and have seen you at your worst but I have also seen you at your best. I have seen you lead frightened men into battle without a trace of fear. I have seen you face the dead and not turn from the path. I have seen you march upon the black gates of Mordor and return unscathed. No Estel, indeed you shall be called great for you have done great things and will continue to do so for many long years."

"Thank you," Aragorn answered, feeling his friends praise was undeserved but knowing better than to argue with the elf on such matters. "Will you come to Gondor with us?" he asked unable to keep the longing from his voice.

"Of course, I have missed getting you out of trouble," the elf stated haughtily and Aragorn pushed him playfully.

"If I remember it was you who found that wonderful little spiders nest the last time I came to Greenwood," Aragorn stated and watched as his friend winced unable to deny the truth and Aragorn laughed knowing he had gotten the better of the elf, for the moment at least.

* * *

Saeorii sighed as she lay back on the bed and looked up at the stars through the open window as she waited for Elessar to return from his ramblings with Legolas. Never had she felt so welcome as those here had made her feel today and she now understood more fully why her husband's heart had yearned for this place. She was startled from her thoughts though at a soft knock on the door. She stood and tied her robe as she went to the answer the door, actually enjoying not having a guard or servant there to open it for her although Elrond had offered.

She was surprised to see Frodo standing there and it was obvious that she was not who he had expected to answer when he stepped back slightly.

"Pardon me," he stammered nervously and Saeorii smiled.

"Not at all, master, what may I do for you this evening," she answered and watched him visibly relax at her reassurance.

"I was looking for Aragorn," he told her and it took her a moment to remember that he meant Elessar.

"He is out with Legolas and his brothers," she spoke softly and felt sympathy for the young hobbit, sensing the lingering pain of the burden he had once carried. "Is there nothing I might do for you?"

He shook his head, "No, my lady, I just wished to speak with him as I used to during the time he was our guide. It was nothing that cannot wait."

"You may come in and wait for him, if you like," she suggested, noticing his hesitancy to leave despite her husband's absence. "I would be glad of the company while I wait and I am sure that Elessar would be glad to see you," she told him as she stood so that he could enter their rooms.

He had taken only a few steps though when he gasped and grabbed his shoulder in obvious pain. She moved quickly towards him and helped him to the small loveseat near the doors to the balcony, kneeling before him as she looked up into his pained face.

"Are you well?" she questioned earnestly, "Shall I go and get Elrond for you?"

"Nay," he stated breathlessly as his pain seemed to ease somewhat, "it happens often and there is nothing that can be done for it," he told her suddenly seeming very tired.

"Here, lay down and rest for a while, I will get you something to drink while you wait," she instructed gently and was pleased to see that he did not protest but lay back as she had asked while she filled a silver goblet with elven cordial and brought it to him.

He drank only a little but seemed to be more well when he finished as she sat watching him carefully on the floor beside him. He handed the cup back to her and closed his eyes as he began to shiver and she took the robe from her own shoulders and draped it tenderly over him although he seemed not to notice. She felt a stab of sympathy for she knew the coldness he felt and the hope of forgetting pain for it was her own. She had been through darkness and like he, was now left to fight the shadows. She reached up and softly brushed a lock of his hair back from his face and murmured to him softly in elvish, bringing her hand to rest upon his shoulder where she knew a dark scar was drawn in his pale flesh. She felt a single tear fall to her cheek as he opened his eyes and turned his head to look at her.

Frodo felt a strange warmth as he looked at the dark lady who sat on the floor next to the couch where he lay, watching him intently. There was something about her that drew his heart towards her. Her light was unlike anything he had ever seen in all his time among the elves. It shone brighter than the wane moon and it seemed all the stars in the heavens rested upon her fair brow. He remembered only ever having seen the elves in such a way when the darkness of Sauron was upon him and he shuddered again as his thoughts were drawn once more to the dark lord.

"Frodo," she called to him softly and he could not help but look at her as she drew him back from the shadows that seemed to grow stronger each day he remained here in Middle earth. He knew he must sail but did not wish to.

**A Caita carelya ammelda ar moiana. ****  
****Lanta i lómë, utúlielyë tiëo mettanna. ****  
****A lorë si, ar óla len i epë tuller. ****  
****Entë yaitar hrestallo pella. ****  
****Manen neyilyë? Mallo niër antalyassë? ****  
****Rato cenuvalyë sa ilyë caurelyar autuvar, ****  
****varna mi inya ranqui. **

**Man cenilyë eccaianna? ****  
****Manen i maiwi ninqui yaitar? ****  
****Arta i Eär Isil néca amorta - ****  
****Ciryar utúlier an yulu le márelya. ****  
****Rómen ahyuva ve hyellë telpina, ****  
****i cála nenissë. Ilyë fëar autar. **

**I Estel vinta ambarenna lómëo, **

**ter fuini lantala, pella enyalië ar lúmë. ****  
****Áva quetë: "Si utúlielwë mettanna". ****  
****Hresta ninquë yáma - elyë ar inyë ata ómentuvalwë. ****  
****Ar elyë nauva sinomë mi inya ranqui. **

**Man cenilyë eccaianna? ****  
****Ma i maiwi ninqui yaitar? ****  
****Arta i Eär Isil néca amorta - ****  
****Ciryar utúlier an yulu le márelya. ****  
****Ar ilyë ahyuva ve hyellë telpina, ****  
****i cála nenissë. Ciryar mistë autar **

**Númenna.**

**(translation)**

**Lay down, your sweet and weary head,**

**Night is falling; you have come to journeys end,**

**Sleep now and dream of the ones who came before**

**They are calling from across a distant shore**

**Why do you weep? What are these tears upon your face?**

**Soon you will see all of your fears will pass away**

**Safe in my arms, you're only sleeping**

**What can you see on the horizon?**

**Why do the white gulls call?**

**Across the Sea a pale moon rises**

**The ships have come to carry you home**

**And all will turn to silver glass**

**A light on the water, all souls pass**

**Hope fades into the world of night**

**Through shadows falling out of memory and time**

**Don't say we have come now to the end**

**White shores are calling; you and I will meet again**

**And you'll be here in my arms, just sleeping**

**What can you see on the horizon?**

**Why do the white gulls call?**

**Across the Sea a pale moon rises**

**The ships have come to carry you home**

**And all will turn to silver glass**

**A light on the water, gray ships pass  
Into the West.'**

Frodo sighed as he let her beautiful words send him to the world of dreams where the darkness could not touch him. He understood little of what was said for she sang in one of the elder tongues, but he knew enough to find comfort in her enchanting voice as he felt in her the power of the Ageless and finally found rest.

To be continued…..

All right, credit where credit is due:

Song is "Into the West" performed by Annie Lennox and written by Howard Shore for the Lord of the Rings Trilogy. IT DOES NOT BELONG TO ME!

It was translated into Quenya by Ryszard Derdzinski songs are in no way mine and I do not take credit for them.

Istarriel: Glad you are enjoying it and welcome, I hope this chapter wasn't a disappointment for you!

Tadriendra of Mirkwood: I can always count on you to be honest and I love you for it. Eowyn and Eomer are mad at Aragorn for hitting Saeorii, they were both present during the foreign council when Aragorn lost his temper. Although it wasn't stated they left before any "bridges could be mended" and they aren't close enough to Gondor to know about the change in him. They still think he is like he was at the first of the story although I haven't focused on that. Actually we'll be dealing with that matter in either the next chapter or the one after. Yes, I know I made him sound that way and it wasn't intentional but that's the way it came out and I couldn't think of a better way to do things so I left it. Sorry if it ruined the moment for you. Also, thank you for saying it was tastefully done, I was afraid some people would say it was too much and others not enough so I am pleased that it was not terrible. Anyway, that's just a really long way of saying, thanks, look forward to hearing from you again.

Ainariella: Glad you enjoyed those parts, and also glad that you like my descriptions, some think I'm a little too long winded. Oh well, everyone's entitled to their own opinion. Um, to answer your questions, Elladan and Elrohir are just mentioned in this chapter but will be more main characters for a couple of the later chapters. As to number of chapters, am unsure but we are winding down with this one sadly, a few loose ends to tie up before its finished so I would guess at least five? Not really sure about that though. 'Previous misdeeds' would be his neglect of Gondor and its people in the months between Arwen's death and Saeorii's arrival, his mistreatment of Legolas and Gimli, and hitting Saeorii. They aren't really focused on but they have been mentioned, I just didn't want to make a long list or anything but that should give you a basic idea. Nothing like murder or anything. Anyway, thanks so much for your review and I hope to continue to hear from you, very insightful reviews!

Onyxworrystone: Thanks so much! It was delicious.

Enyamorntulir: Thanks so much, I am glad to hear from you. Hope to hear from you again!

LadyArian: Wow, I don't think I've ever left anyone speechless before. Glad that you liked my chapter and totally flattered. About the Eomer thing, we'll fix that up in the next couple of chapters depending on how things unfold. Glad your enjoying this. Thanks so much!

Karone Evertree: Hmmm, guess I should have given everyone a review, sorry for confusing you. They are mad at Aragorn for his attitude during the foreign council and for hitting Saeorii. They were there and if you remember Eowyn especially was mad, that statement just tells you that things haven't been patched up between them yet. Glad you enjoyed the Aragorn moment and the history lesson. Um yeah, she is. Anyway, moving on, Legolas is here and shall remain for the rest of the story although he will not be focused on as much as Aragorn and Saeorii of course seeing as they are the main characters. Thanks!

Randomisation: You are most definitely correct. They did change that in the movie, probably because the "G" elf isn't in it and yes his name is Glorfindel. He is riding a horse and Aragorn asks for his help to get the hobbits across the ford. Frodo rides his horse across the Ford while Glorfindel and Aragorn fight the wraiths that aren't washed away by the flooding of the ford which is done by Elrond and Gandalf, not Arwen although I have to admit she did fit there and it's not totally unreasonable. Anyway, long way of saying you were right and it was Glorfindel the Balrog slayer who helped Aragorn and the hobbit's to Rivendell in the book, not Arwen. Glorfindel is more of a main character in my other story, and definitely in Tolkeins books. Anyway, thanks for your review and hope you continue to read and review!

Estel-Ara: you got your reunion although as of yet Elladan and Elrohir aren't main characters, they will enter again in later chapters and get more than a passing mention although I did get Elrond in before he sails to Valinor. You're right it is more often Legolas, prbly because the others aren't in the movie. Anyway, thanks and hope to hear from you again!

Wallflower: Thnx.


	18. A Man So Changed

Chapter eighteen: A Man So Changed

Aragorn lay awake long after she had fallen asleep, letting his mind wander aimlessly over the events of the past weeks. They had stayed in Rivendell for nearly a month before Lady Galadriel arrived and he had rejoiced in being among those whom he most loved. Soon though, all those who were to sail left the realm for the last time and he could still recall the grieved voices of the elves that lingered there at his father's leaving.

At Frodo's request, he and Saeorii had ridden with them. Aragorn could still remember his father's tears when they parted for the last time. Just as strong was his remembrance of Cirdan who had been brought to his knees by the return of Saeorii. He remembered plainly the tears of the old shipwright as he held his long lost child in his arms one last time before he sailed. The parting of Gandalf was no less painful to him than that of his father, and he had been deeply saddened to say goodbye to Frodo who was most dear to his heart. Yet, among all this sorrow there was a moment of joy immeasurable and he smiled to himself as he watched her sleeping safely at his side.

He stood watching the shadows across the sea lengthen and the setting sun turn the sea and the shore alike to gold. He did not turn at her noiseless footsteps as she came to stand at his side and he felt sorrow, wondering if this might be the last time she would do so. She seemed to sense his heartache and tenderly took his hand in hers. He turned and held her gently to him, as he continued to gaze out at the water behind her, a single tear finding a path down his aging face. She moved slightly, placing her hand gently over his heart as he pulled her closer still as if to keep her there and never let her leave.

"_If wish you to go with Cirdan, if that is what is best," he began softly and sensed her listening to him intently, "I know that you were not given a choice in your marriage to me and it is not fair of me to ask that you stay here among men when you have felt so much pain. You are not of my kingdom and do them no misdeed by sailing. The people of Gondor love you and therefore they will understand your leaving." His voice was thick with tears as he continued, "I will miss you though, and both my heart and my halls shall seem dark and empty without your light."_

_She backed away from him slightly and he could not bring himself to look at her until her gentle hand guided his eyes to meet hers._

"_Why should I sail from these shores, when the one who holds my heart is here," she asked him quietly and for a moment his mind did not comprehend the words that she had spoken, so simple and yet so true as to make his heart overflow with his love for her._

He reached out gently to touch her soft hair as she slept soundly; the stars twinkling above them were easily seen through the door to their tent that stood partly open. He knew that none would harm them for close by were those of the old kingdom, the Dunedain who were to become his first guard and council. They were beginning the journey back to Gondor for the winter months by way of Rohan. His heart yearned to see Eomer again and if possible mend the friendship that had been lost.

His attention was drawn to her once more as she sighed softly in her sleep. She seemed perfectly content and at ease here as she slept on soft pelts beneath a light blanket on the lonely plains of Rohan as the cold days of winter began. In his eyes none could compare with her beauty and gentle kindness and he could not believe that she was his for all of the years left to him, whether they be few or many, as Elrond had said.

He leaned closer unable to resist the urge to touch his lips to hers one last time before he began to seek illusive slumber. He was surprised when she stirred slightly as he kissed her lips lightly and was soon graced with the sight of her deep eyes as she looked up at him warmly. He smiled but did not move away as she blinked sleepily,

"Forgive me, Melleth, I did not mean to wake you," he whispered quietly as he looked down at his beautiful wife.

"Do not worry," she answered and her voice was enough to stir the deep undying desire for her within him and he leaned forward and kissed her again.

For moments he knew nothing but her as she tenderly returned his affections until he knew that he would not find sleep for some time. He kissed her once briefly as he rose and fastened the door to their tent before returning to her side. She smiled at him as she reached out and stroked the side of his face lovingly, unafraid and completely trusting of him as always as he pulled her closer and took her sweet lips in his own. He sighed deeply as he delighted in the smoothness of her skin and he drew her closer still as she allowed him to deftly undo the ties of her nightgown.

He backed away slightly and raised himself up on his arm and looked over at her as she lay on her back, watching him silently. Her shady eyes and pale skin were stunning against her dark hair that was splayed beneath her small form. Her lips were traced with a small smile as he looked at her adoringly and wondered what he had ever done to deserve such a treasure. She stretched out her slender arm towards him he took her hand and kissed it tenderly. She laughed softly and pushed herself closer to him so that he knew she could hear his heart beating strongly in his chest.

She reached up and pushed an unruly lock of his hair from his face endearingly and he was unmade by the simple tenderness of her gesture. He reached out and cupped the side of her face in his large hand and felt pleasure as she placed her own smaller hand over his. Slowly, he pulled her close, reading her movements, always aware of any fear but she showed none. He paused for a moment, his face mere inches from hers and looked into her eyes in the dim light of the moon that seeped through the tent.

"I love you," she murmured before kissing him delicately as she watched him with dark eyes for a moment before he leaned down and kissed her deeply, telling without words that he loved her above all else.

* * *

Ernin slowed his mount to a trot as he neared the tents. His breath came in frosty clouds as the steely sky above him threatened the first snow. The dawn was just breaking but it was not the cool air that made him shiver. He was afraid. He had heard the great legends of the Dunedain and knew that if they were truly what they were said to be that he was no match for even one of them. He knew his king was worried about the fact that the Riders of Eraidor were in the Riddermark but he did not understand why he had been the one elected to go and speak with them.

Despite the early hour, most in the camp seemed to be up and about and small fires dotted the plains. Their horses were not tied but had not strayed any farther than the brook that ran nearby. As he drew closer he could see the impressive shadows of these legendary warriors and reined in his mount and dropped to the ground as he reached the edge of their encampment and for a moment he froze. In the centre of all the tents was one much larger than all the others, in front of it blazed a large fire by which a fair elf and stout dwarf sat among many men the likes of which he had never seen before. Their faces, though full of grief and wisdom held a light much like the elf's and he now knew that those who spoke of their greatness had not lied.

In front of the tent a flag flew and his heart leapt in his throat as he realized that it was the white tree of Arnor and knew that meant that someone important from Gondor was among these men of the West. A man unlike the rest in stature and familiar to him joined those around the fire and laughed heartily at something said by the elf. It was Prince Faramir. It was none of these though that had caused his breath to shorten and his heart to race, it was she who stood among these great men.

Her face was radiant and unlike anything he had ever seen as she laughed and talked easily with these gruff men. He did not miss the look of deference they gave her nor the respect that was shown plainly in their eyes. Her dress was simple and did not reach the ground, and he could not miss her slight figure as she turned to greet a cloaked man who seemed to appear from the shadows. The others around the fire stood and bowed slightly at the man's appearance before taking their seats once more as the man pulled the breathtaking lady to him and kissed her tenderly.

"You there, halt!" Ernin froze as he felt a strong hand grip his shoulder. "Who are you?" the man demanded. It was some time before Ernin could find his voice but finally he answered.

"I have come from the King Eomer."

"Then I will take you to the one with whom you should speak."

The man let go of his arm, all anger gone from his voice as he led him towards the large fire. The cloaked man now sat on the ground, speaking animatedly to those who were there, the beautiful lady sitting at his side, her ebony hair pulled back slightly from her face to reveal delicate elven ears. He felt like the intruder he was as the man paused in the tale when he stepped into the light. For a moment he was almost sure that the lady seemed to shrink against the man, seeming to be afraid of him but that seemed strange to him considering the company she kept. All around him grew silent and he did not miss the fact that each bore a sword and that every hand now rested on the hilt. The man who had brought him bowed in the direction of Prince Faramir but he realized that it had been to the cloaked man that he had bowed when the man stood.

"I bring a messenger from King Eomer," his guide announced and he bowed slightly, somehow feeling it was right.

The cloaked man held out his calloused hand to him and the cloak he wore moved so that Ernin was able to see the mighty sword at his side. He swallowed the lump of fear in his throat as he held out his hand in return and realized that it seemed very small in comparison to the one that clasped his own. The man pulled back his hood to reveal noble features and piercing sterling eyes that held wisdom beyond what he had expected for the man did not appear to have lived forty years. His features were dark like the Dunedain with whom the man kept company but there was a light about him that reminded him of the fair elf who sat not far from where they now stood more than all the others.

"Well met," the man stated and his voice was deep and clear, startling Ernin slightly as he released his hand. "What tidings do you bring from your king?"

"I bring no tidings, my lord, only the request that you make known to him why it is you are here within our borders."

He sensed some of the men around him bristle as he spoke and wondered what he could have said to offend them. The man seemed to sense it too for he turned to them and spoke to them calmly.

"There is no need to feel anger, he means no harm. It is not an unreasonable request, you must remember that it has been many years since any here have been here to these plains."

One of the men laughed and called out,

"Since before your reckoning, young one."

The man before Ernin laughed and it was a deep and rich sound and Ernin found himself more at ease as those around him seemed to relax as well.

"Aye, but you must remember it has not been so long since he has been here, Garrin," commented Prince Faramir and the others laughed.

"Come and warm yourself by the fire, the morning is cold and you are chilled."

Ernin did not argue with the man and sat close to the roaring fire, sighing as his cold hands begin to feel warm again. The cloaked man did not leave him however, but sat at his side. Ernin was silent for some time before he dared speak.

"If I may ask, my lord, when were you last to Rohan, I do not remember your face."

"I do not mind at all, my friend, I was last here under the reign of King Theodan. I was here when Theodred was laid to rest and fought with both Theodan and Eomer in the battle for Helm's Deep. I am afraid though that it has been nearly two years since I was last here."

"You fought in Helm's Deep?" the man chuckled softly at his incredulous tone and Ernin blushed slightly.

"Aye, I did, as did Legolas and Gimli," he said pointing to the dwarf and the elf that had moved to sit by the beautiful lady who laughed softly as the pair argued over something that he could not hear.

"You are among those who are regarded as great within Rohan then for few returned from that battle I fear," he stated sadly remembering the death of both his brother and father.

"Aye, but that shadow has passed," the man stated wisely as large flakes of snow began to drift down slowly from the sky.

"Please," he began meekly, "I do not mean to seem rude but a storm is brewing and I wish to read the Golden Hall before the worst of it. What news may I take to my king?"

The man was quiet for some time as the voices around them continued but Ernin felt their eyes watching him carefully and he began to wonder who this man beside him could be. There was a greatness about him that made him feel as though he were in the presence of one of the Wise and yet there was a humility about him that made him feel strangely welcome here. He could not accurately describe the man but he knew that he had never met another man like him.

"Would you like something to eat?"

The soft voice of the beautiful lady startled him from his reverie as she bent forward timidly offering him a steaming bowl.

"Thank you, my lady," he answered her kindly and was rewarded with a shy smile before she turned to feed the others.

"I have no news for you to take to your king," the man stated finally, Ernin paused with his spoon partway to his mouth and looked at the man beside him. "You need not fear the storm either, for my company and I shall ride with you to the Golden Hall. It has been too long since I last saw Eomer," and Ernin was puzzled by the tinge of sadness in the man's voice as he spoke.

"When shall we leave," asked one of the men who sat nearby.

"As soon as things can be made ready, Haelin," the man answered.

"Of course, my liege."

Ernin was puzzled by the man's title but did not have time to question it before the man stood and entered the large tent into which the lady had gone only moments before. Ernin contented himself with the warm food and offered to help when he had finished. The elf smiled at him warmly and thanked him and so Ernin found himself tying tents and making the horses ready for these great riders. All the while he worked though, he watched these men. They spoke like nobles and were not gruff as it was said but they were strong and he had no doubt that they were much more skilled than he with a blade. Soon all was ready and it was then that he realized that he had not seen the cloaked man for some time. He was just about to ask one of the men when the elf called out to him and motioned that he should follow.

He walked quickly to catch up with the elf's light strides but soon walked at his side as he passed the rows of men, each wearing the grey cloaks of the Riders of Eraidor, fastened with the star of Westernesse.

"Please, where is the man who I spoke with before, I wish to thank him for his kindness."

"He is waiting for you," the elf told him warmly and Ernin stopped suddenly as they came to the endless rows of riders.

Two guards bore the flags of Gondor that snapped in the growing wind, the dark cloth easily seen through the white of the floating snow. Close beside them stood Prince Faramir and the dwarf, the elf went to stand beside them as the man he had sought walked towards him. He could not speak for no longer was this man a mere Ranger, but the King of Gondor himself. If he had doubted it, upon his brow blazed a silver crown and at his side the magnificent sword he had seen earlier. He swallowed hard for there was no mistaking who this man was or the lady who stood at his side. He was bewildered; where was the terrible king of Gondor of whom he had been told for surely this man was not he?

* * *

Eomer stood watching the first snow of the season drift slowly down from the endless sky above through the window to his throne room that had belonged to his uncle before him. He wandered aimlessly about the room; glad that his council had ended for as the afternoon wore on he grew more and more restless for reasons he could not understand. He wished that Ernin would return, he had looked for him at noon and already the dark sky was beginning to bring an early night.

He turned and looked at the room from the pavilion on which his throne sat. He longed again to be out, riding with the Rohirrim and surveying the borders, keeping those within the kingdom safe. He had never desired the crown and was there another who he could have passed it to he would have, but there was no one. His father and mother had died long years ago, his uncle and Theodred died only two years before. He longed again as he had nearly everyday since the foreign council nearly a year ago that Aragorn had not changed. The man had become like his father, but most importantly, his friend and he mourned his loss most of all for it was different. The others were beyond his reach, but he was forced to bear the knowledge that Aragorn dwelt nearby in Gondor and still he was lost.

He sat on his throne and rested his elbows on his knees, cradling his head in his hands and wishing that he could ride to clear his head. There was a soft knock on the side door and he knew without asking that it would be his sister. Only she was his comfort in these days when it seemed that all had been lost to him. Only she knew of his pain when it seemed that his people were just beginning to live. He did not move to greet her but followed her soft footsteps to his side and sighed as she placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"Do not grieve so, my brother," she instructed softly but he remained silent. "All is not lost as you seem to think. Your people are safe, they are well, they are happy. No longer does the shadow poison our land. Rohan is now what it has not been for years, but still your people need you."

"You would be better suited to the throne, my sister," he mumbled as he finally sat up and met her cornflower eyes. "Your strength would serve them well and your spirit is stronger than mine."

"Do not tell such lies," she told him sharply, obviously hoping to spark some sort of fire in him but he would not yield.

"I only speak the truth, Eowyn."

He was not struck with her sharp reply however, as the main doors flew open and a startled looking messenger raced towards him.

"King Eomer! Lady Eowyn!"

"What is it," they demanded in unison and Eomer let none of his own grief show as he walked swiftly towards the man.

"You must come quickly," the man stated and began to run from the throne room leaving Eomer and Eowyn no choice but to follow.

They followed the distraught messenger through the halls until finally they were outside and Eomer stopped.

"What was so important," demanded his sister as she came just a few steps behind but the sight before him left Eomer unable to answer.

Hundreds of riders were making their way towards the palace with great haste. Slightly before them rode two bearing flags of Gondor.

Eowyn's heart leapt into her mouth, as she stood unmoving beside her brother. She could not believe that he had come. She hoped that Eomer would tell them to leave and not return. Finally, the great company stopped, the foremost rider dismounting and running up the stairs towards them. Eowyn recognised him as Ernin and Eomer ran to meet him. They spoke quietly for some time and Eowyn looked down at the foremost riders. Among them she was pleased to see Legolas and Gimli but most of all Faramir who merely smiled and inclined his head to her when she caught his eye.

Eomer descended the stairs the rest of the way and moved towards Aragorn warily. However, it was not he that held the attention of Eowyn but the lady who sat at his side. She was reminded again, as she had been during her brief stay in Gondor what a beautiful creature the Queen was. Her skin was pale, her cheeks flushed by the cool air and her dark hair sparkled with snowflakes more beautiful than the slender silver crown she wore. Her dark eyes were enchanting and her dress fit her perfectly, clinging to her slender form until it reached her waist and then falling beautifully around her. She seemed not to belong to the realm of men but the dark cloak that trailed behind her bearing the white tree of Arnor proclaimed that she was.

Eowyn was startled when Aragorn dismounted and did not hear what was said between he and her brother before the two embraced heartily. Eowyn was stunned and raced down the steps, being sure to lift the edge of her dress so she would not trip. Once she reached them though she did not know what to say and so merely stood watching as Aragorn led her brother towards his wife. Aragorn offered the beautiful creature his hand and Eowyn was startled see the look of deep adoration in his silver eyes as he looked up at her. His actions were all that was gentle as he helped her down from her mount and put his arm around her protectively as he led her towards them.

Never had she seen a man so changed as Aragorn was. He was as he had been the first time that she met him. He stood tall, his silver eyes portraying wisdom and kindness. His voice was again strong and clear and she was again reminded of all the qualities that had drawn her to him in the first place. His wife seemed to seek refuge in his embrace and there was no sign that she feared the man who now held her with a tenderness that Eowyn admired. He looked up at her warily and Eowyn did not feel anger, as she would have thought. Instead she felt compassion and inclined her head respectfully as she smiled. This was the man she had looked for in Gondor, this was the King.

To be continued……

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Sierra


	19. Always Be Welcome In Our House

Chapter Eighteen: Always Be Welcome In Our House

Saeorii watched the world of swirling white outside the frosted windowpane as the fierce wind broke upon the palace of Rohan. She had forgotten the wondrous feeling of peace that the falling snow brought, the feeling of safety when nothing else could be seen. She turned from the window and moved towards the small trunk that Haelin had brought for her. They would spend at least this night within the palace of Rohan, King Eomer had insisted. He was young to be a king but Elessar had told her of the death of his uncle during the Battle of Pelnnor Fields. There was an air of grief about him that made him serious but his good heart and kindness had been easy for an elf to see beneath his stern exterior.

She smiled absently as she pulled out a dark dress and dry shift, beginning to unfasten her dress as remembered the kindness with which the young king had received them. She had remembered him the instant she had first seen him, standing atop the stairs and watching as they rode towards him. She remembered him from the night when he and Faramir had carried her from the Hall after Elessar had struck her. She knew also that his sister had not forgotten that night for she could sense the woman's mistrust of Elessar as they entered the palace together.

She stood in front of the blazing fire as she fastened her dress, revelling in the soft pelts beneath her bare feet as she stood and soaked up the fire's warmth. She sighed as the tension in her shoulders began to ease, here in this room away from strange men and strange places. Here she could listen to the words that the wind whispered as it rushed around the palace. Words of peace, words of safety, words of joy, and words of life that would return when the snow was gone.

She yawned, wondering how much longer it would be before Elessar returned from the throne room where he had lingered to speak with Eomer. She thought it strange that she should be tired, for she had slept well the night before but her eyes were so heavy that she could not resist the temptation to lie down on the feather bed and close them. Soon, she was lulled to sleep by the familiar moaning of winter's song and the soft whisperings of the Dunedain who kept watch outside her door.

* * *

Eowyn walked through the halls where she had once been a child. The halls that had become her home after the death of her parents. She knew them well enough to walk them blindfolded and so had no trouble finding the room that her brother had had prepared for Aragorn. Outside stood two of the men of the west and even Eowyn felt hesitant to approach them for she had never seen men like them, except perhaps Aragorn. However, it was not an issue for they heard her approach before she had even stepped into the warm glow of the torches that hung from the wall.

"Good evening, Lady Eowyn," the foremost stated, while the other moved to stand directly in front of the door.

"Good evening, my lord," she greeted cordially, as she stepped towards them, somehow reassured by the soothing deepness of their voice.

"If you wish to speak with King Elessar, he is still with King Eomer," the same one stated again and Eowyn was somehow surprised that they addressed her brother by his proper title.

"Nay, actually, I wished to speak with his lady, if she would permit it."

The one, who stood in front of the door, hesitated for a moment before knocking gently on the door behind him. A soft, voice answered and the man entered, returning moments later, and nodding to the other before both moved aside wordlessly and she hesitantly walked towards the door that had been left standing open slightly. She pushed it open as little as possible as she stepped inside and closed the door quietly behind her.

The room glowed softly with the light of many candles that hung from the wall and the blazing fire that burned brightly to her left. The dark drapes much like those that were in her own chambers were not drawn but left standing open so the Eowyn could see the swirling white as it rushed against the windowpane in the dark night. The room was silent except for the fire and the sound of the howling wind that made her shiver as she took another step further into the room. She remembered well what Faramir had told her before he would allow her to come and see the queen. In truth, his stern warning of the queen's timidity and shyness had surprised her, and his protectiveness of the lady was admirable if not slightly annoying coming from her beloved.

It took her a moment before she was able to spot the slight queen where she sat on the edge of the soft bed, pulling a pair of shining doeskin boots over her slender feet before she rose shyly to meet Eowyn. Here within the palace walls Eowyn could see even more of the lady's beauty for her dark eyes were enchanting against her alabaster complexion. Her onyx hair hung to the small of her back and the front of it was pinned back so that Eowyn could see her delicate elven ears. She walked as if she was floating and Eowyn could not help but be slightly envious of the way the wine-coloured dress fit her subtle curves. On her left hand was a ring, her only piece of jewellery, a simple silver band that spoke volumes for it told of her marriage to the most powerful man in all of Middle-earth.

She bowed slightly and was rewarded with a shy smile from the striking lady, who shook her head gently and motioned for her to stand again.

"Please, Lady Eowyn, this is your home. You shall not bow to me here. Especially as you are such a good friend to Prince Faramir and have known my husband in the past."

Eowyn blushed slightly at the mention of her prior acquaintance with her husband, remembering how smitten she had been with him when they first met. She wondered suddenly if he had told the Queen and worried that this knowledge might be a source of discomfort for the kind lady who stood before her. However, as she watched the Queen in silence for a moment she knew that even if she knew of the past, it would not matter for even Eowyn could see that Aragorn had eyes only for his wife and that he loved her above all others.

"As you wish, your majesty," she answered finally, wondering why she felt so inept here in the presence of this timid lady.

"Of what did you wish to speak with me," the Queen asked quietly and Eowyn was struck by the elegance that her strong accent brought to the common tongue as she motioned her to the chairs that had been placed in front of the fire.

Eowyn did not answer until they were both seated and she wondered now if it were her place to speak of such things as she fiddled absently with one of the many folds of her evergreen dress.

"If I may speak the truth, your majesty, I wished to speak of you," she began quietly, gaining a bit of confidence from the Queen's silence. "Perhaps you do not remember me from when I came to Gondor last, but I have not been able to forget you, nor what your husband did to you that day. I wish to know if he treats you well. I wish to know if you are afraid. I wish to know if you are happy or are merely held there by a promise you are forced to keep."

Now that she had finished, Eowyn wondered if perhaps she had said too much and her unease was not alleviated any by the Queen's silence. She could not bring herself to meet those dark eyes as she waited anxiously for an answer to her questions.

"Indeed, I do remember your face," the Queen began softly and the kindness in her voice was enough to cause Eowyn to relax, even if only slightly. "I remember that day and your part in it for Elessar told me the words you spoke that day but much took place that day and the months that have followed of which you are not aware. If you were you would not have to ask such questions for he treats me with such love and kindness, as I have never known. I have no fear of him, in fact I trust him with all my heart for I know, despite the past, that he would never harm me. As to my happiness, I can say that I have never been happier in all my life, which is longer than you would guess I am sure. I am not bound to him by any promise I was forced to make for he has released me of them. Instead, I am bound to him by love which I had never truly known until him."

Eowyn was silent. These were the last words that she had expected to hear but she could not say that she was sorry for having asked. There was something about the lady that made her wish to protect her and keep her safe, an almost maternal feeling of affection as she looked at the timid lady warmly.

"My heart rejoices at your words and I am most glad to find that I was mistaken," she told her kindly, "Oh, I had nearly forgotten why it was I was sent to you," she exclaimed suddenly, laughing at her own absentmindedness. "The others are waiting for us in the throne room, a meal has been laid," she explained as she stood, offering her hand to the lady as she continued. "I fear it is nothing so grand as what would be given to you in Gondor but we had no notice of your coming and so had not time to prepare."

* * *

The three of them sat in strange silence, each wondering which would be the one to break it. Legolas and Aragorn sat in two chairs near the fire that had been laid in Eomer's chambers off the throne room while Eomer himself stood at the window watching the tempest blast uselessly against the sturdy palace of stone. Eomer's thoughts were travelling in unproductive circles and it seemed that even his best efforts were useless in bringing any kind of order to them. He was still in shock that finally after all his longing, Aragorn was here but he was disappointed because now that the man was here he could not find the words to speak what he wished. He sighed heavily and laid his hand against the frosted window, feeling its coolness beneath his hand as the frost melted at his touch.

"I know not where to start, my friend," he finally stated, at a loss for any better words as he turned to face the great man who he counted as his truest friend.

The man smiled at him, understandingly, but answered with a hint of laughter in his eyes.

"Perhaps the beginning would be best."

Eomer could not help but laugh as he moved at last to sit with the other two, facing Legolas and Aragorn beside him.

"This I suppose is the great wisdom of Elessar that is whispered about among the companies of men?"

Aragorn's laughter was rich and deep and brought warmth to Eomer's heart. He found himself smiling as well and thinking that Eowyn would be happy as she said that he was much to stern and frowned too often.

"Of such whispers, I have heard nothing, my friend," Legolas answered, bringing more laughter, "And I must say that I have seen little of anything that could be called wisdom from this man."

"Now, now, Legolas, do not be so hard on me, you know that I cannot compete with the wisdom that your three thousand years has brought."

The elf scowled slightly but Eomer knew well that it was not the accumulation of years that offended him, as is the way with men, but the lack of years for among his kind he was still considered but a child. Moments of comfortable silence ensued between them before any spoke again.

"The words of your kingdom brought to me now are much better than in past days, my friend. Indeed, it is said that daily it resembles more the kingdom of old."

"Aye, someday it shall exceed what is remembered I believe but not by my doing alone for we all know that my doing is the reason that Gondor suffered so long before it began to be remade." Eomer did not speak for he knew that Aragorn did not expect answer. "After I left you, after the death of your uncle, I put all my energies into the lands around Gondor and my coronation that I might do more for my people. Your sister was there the day I was crowned, with Faramir at her side. Both were there that night when word came that Arwen had passed. I rode out from the palace that night and did not return for two months. The Council had given me up for lost, truly though I was lost. Never have I experienced anything like the feeling of emptiness that consumed me."

He paused for a moment but Eomer did not speak, afraid to break the spell that his deep words seemed to have cast over him.

"I became selfish, I had been hurt and in return pushed all away that could ever hurt me again. That meant anyone who had ever or could ever become close. It meant you, my friend and for that I ask your forgiveness. My grief is not an excuse for what I did."

"Please, my friend, you are only human. We all fall short of what we would like to be, that is what makes us who we are. The important thing is that you have returned to us."

"Aye, I was brought back by a beautiful elven maiden. The night of the Foreign Council was the bottom of my plummet when I woke from the shadow that had held me for so long. I did not recognise myself but knew that things could not remain as they were. The only problem was that I had pushed everyone away and so had no one to help and bring me back, no one to remind me that all I cared for had not perished and that I still had reason for living. I knew that you and Eowyn had left mere hours after the meal, not waiting for the guiding sun before fleeing from my anger and hatred."

"Instead I found myself drawn to she that shared my rooms and yet I had never acknowledged her existence, never spoken her name, never taken the time to hear her soft voice. I could bear it no longer when I saw her raw fear and knew that it was I, which was the cause of it. It was she who, despite her fears, came to me in my brokenness and sought to comfort me. It is she who has healed my heart and mended my spirit; she has made me complete."

Eomer smiled as he caught the tone of adoration and love in his friend's voice.

"I believe that she has bewitched you, my friend," he commented teasingly.

"Indeed, she has my friend and I wish never to be released from her spell."

Eomer paused for a moment; unsure of the question he now felt to ask.

"Aragorn, does she fear me?"

His friend seemed to stiffen for a minute before his shoulders grew weighted with a grief unfamiliar to him as Legolas sat forward, his grey eyes showing compassion for both Aragorn and his lady. Eomer braced himself for the words that would next be spoken but nothing could have prepared him for what was told.

"Do not despair, for it is not you who she fears," Aragorn stated quietly, and Eomer knew his confusion was plainly showed to the man as he continued. "You know not of her coming to Gondor for it was not of her own free will that she became my wife and queen. For many years she was held by our kind, neglected, abused or used for their pleasure. My words cannot tell you the raw fear and pain that she has felt, but let me tell you this: the few times that I have been shown even a part of it have pained me beyond any description of physical pain. Nay, it is not you whom she fears, Eomer, but men like you who to her may be nameless but whose actions cannot be forgotten."

For long moments silence reigned between them before Eomer was able to find the words to speak.

"I know not what to say. Had I known," he could not finish.

"Had you known there would have been nothing more that you could have done for her than what you have already done. You have welcomed her with kindness, shown her your kind nature and good temper. With time she shall trust you as she does few among our kind."

A soft knock at the door woke them from remembrance as a servant knocked on the door and announced that Queen Saeorii and Lady Eowyn had arrived.

* * *

Their meal was good and Saeorii felt no fear in the company the King of Rohan and his sister. She sat next to Elessar, who had insisted that Eomer sit at the head of the table here in his own home. Eowyn sat at his side while Legolas, feeling no hunger, went off in search of Gimli who he had not seen in some time.

"I am told that you have done well restoring Helms Deep to all that it once was," Elessar commented as Saeorii laid her head comfortably against his strong shoulder, her eyes heavy with sleep once more.

"Aye, indeed I have, although I must say that Eowyn was the last to visit and knows better than I."

"They have finished rebuilding the walls. They have stopped work for the winter makes it difficult but it is already well defended against any who should try to come against it."

"That is good to hear for the city is dear to my heart. I remember well its splendour during the time of Thengal, your grandfather."

Eomer laughed.

"It is still strange to me that you are so aged, my friend. It is astounding that you knew my grandfather well and yet I have never met him."

"Tis the life of a Dunedan. Many I have known have now passed to Mandos while I still remain," Elessar stated and Saeorii pulled closer against him in an effort to ease some of his pain.

He placed his arm around her shoulder, kissing her brow as silence fell over them.

"I have a request, Eomer," Elessar stated and Saeorii felt herself drifting to sleep at the deep rumbling of his voice as her head rested against his chest.

"And what might that be, my friend? I will grant it if it is within my power to do so."

"I ask that you would come with me when I return to Gondor and stay there with me for the winter months. I have missed your company."

Saeorii heard rushed footsteps in the hallway and opened her eyes, sitting quickly as she felt a tremor of fear. Beside her Elessar reached for her hand and held it soothingly as the great doors were opened wide and a snow covered messenger entered.

"My lord King Elessar," the messenger began breathlessly, "I have been asked to bring you to lord Faramir. He desires to speak with you, of what, he would not say to me. Although, he bid me tell you that it was not of an urgent matter."

Elessar nodded to the man and turned to her. All the concern and love that were written in his silver eyes were more than words could say. He knew of her fear here among the strange and somewhat rough men of Rohan. He knew that she did not feel at ease unless he was at her side. He would not leave unless she would be all right. She pressed his hand gently and he smiled at her tenderly before kissing her cheek softly and rising to leave with the messenger.

"If you will excuse me, Eomer, Eowyn."

"Of course," the two stated in unison as he strode briskly out of the room and she was comforted by the sense that he wished to return to her quickly.

"Of what are you thinking," Eowyn asked her brother quietly, and Saeorii stood silently and walked towards the windows that were black with the night.

She watched through them, able to see more than most would have guessed through the darkness and white snow and she saw the strong figure of her husband as he walked through the drifts towards the stables. The two behind her spoke softly for some time and though she could have caught every word she did not listen but thought of returning to Gondor, surprised to realise how much she longed to be there once more. She missed Maeve terribly and the children who she had come to love in the daily excursions on which Elessar took her throughout the fair city, her city. She tensed slightly as she heard the heavy footsteps of the Rohirric king as he approached her carefully. She did not turn to face him, but he did not seem offended as he spoke to her, his voice soft and gentle.

"Are you well, your majesty," he inquired and she turned to him, smiling warmly.

"Aye, I am, thank you," she answered kindly. For a moment he stood silent, looking far beyond her into the darkness of the night before she felt to speak again. "Come you to Gondor with us?" she asked shyly, unable to think of anything else that might be said.

"I know not," he answered wearily and despite her apprehension, Saeorii felt for the young man before her. "I long so to be with Aragorn. He is my greatest friend and I trust his word above all others and yet I know not if it would be right for me to leave my own people." He looked at her and she understood the look of doubt in his eyes, "I know not if my presence would be welcome."

She timidly took a step closer to him, clasping her hands in front of her in an effort to keep their tremors, however slight, from his sight as she spoke.

"You would be as welcome to me as any of my kin," she stated slowly and when he looked at her she knew he had been told of her past and was thankful for his kindness regarding the matter, as he seemed to be making every effort to limit her fear. "My fears will be made no greater by your presence, in fact I have no doubt that soon your presence, as Elessar's and Faramir's and many of the Dunedain, will soon bring me comfort instead of fear. Your heart is good, young king, and your kingdom shall not fade in the splendour of Gondor, but shall rise to its own heights. You and those who dwell within your borders shall be seen as just and kind, brave and truthful. You and yours shall always be welcome in our house, for as long as your years may allow."

He smiled and she noticed how much the expression changed his stern features as he reached slowly and took her small hands in his own massive ones. She smiled, and rejoiced to find she felt no fear as she returned his steady gaze.

"Such a kind offer, I could not refuse, my lady," he told her quietly and she was startled by his tender gesture as he brought her hand to his lips and kissed it softly, before leading her back towards Eowyn who smiled at them broadly.

To be continued…….


	20. I Cannot Lose You

Okay, there's a bit of a time gap between this and the last and a lot has happened, read carefully and I fill in all the gaps for you. You'll also have to remember some things from previous chapters towards the beginning. Hope I did okay and I hope that you enjoy it as always!

Chapter Twenty: I Cannot Lose You

_She ran fast as she ever remembered running before, the sounds of the forest too small to be noticed even by her elven ears as she ran past. She moved quickly, knowing that if she did not he would catch her. At last she found what she sought and she ducked quickly into a small thicket and then sat with her arms folded pulled tightly around herself, trying to keep her breath quiet as she waited to see how long it would take him this time. She smiled, wondrously pleased for last time it had taken him nearly forty minutes. He said she was getting better, soon she would be just as good as him, maybe even better._

_She didn't want to get better, just to become as good as he. It would seem wrong somehow to outdo her brother. After some time she laid back on the soft carpet of moss revelling in the warmth of the sun as it filtered through the thick branches above her. Then she heard it, footsteps. She sat upright and felt for the sword at her side for she knew the footsteps did not belong to her brother. Soundlessly she crept towards the edge of the thicket and looked out feeling relief wash over her as she recognised one of the new comers. They were always easy to spot for they seemed always to be watching and waiting for someone or something to spring out at them._

_The stranger sighed and sat beneath one of the trees across the way and she could see his tears and felt strange for she had never seen anyone cry before, unless they were tears of joy, but these were different. Slowly, she crept out from her hiding spot soundlessly and walked towards him. He did not look up but seemed to sense her presence and drew his own blade immediately and lunged at her. She cried out in fear but remembered enough of her father's teachings to defend herself. She could see a strange fire in the elf's eyes as he froze looking at her, it was unlike anything she had ever seen before. _

_As soon as he recognised her he pulled back, seeming embarrassed as he began to apologize._

"_Princess Carynthiel, please, I must beg your forgiveness but you startled me."_

"_Do not trouble yourself," she replied lightly, reminded once again of the strange seriousness that all the new comers seemed to lose eventually._

_He sheathed his blade as did she and he returned to his place beneath the golden boughs of the tree. Without a word she sat down next to him._

"_Why are you crying?" she asked quietly and he would not look at her._

"_I am crying for those I've lost, Princess."_

"_Lost? Can you not just look for them and find them?" she wondered, confused by his sadness._

"_Nay, my Princess, you misunderstand me. You have never been to Middle Earth, you have always dwelt here on these peaceful shores away from the darkness, away from the pain. Those I have lost are not somewhere I can find them, they have been killed. They are dead."_

_She sat silently for a minute trying to understand. She had been told about death, but it was something distant from here. She had never seen or felt death to know what it was like. The White Shores were always peaceful, there had not been wars for thousands of years since evil men were at last banished from the shores. Her father remembered it but it had been before even her brother's time and he was a good deal older than she. She felt useless as the elf began to cry again, there seemed to be nothing she could do._

"_I am sorry," she said finally but her words seemed flat and empty. She felt her own tears began to fall as she realized how sheltered her life was and how limited her experiences had been. "I wish there were something that I could do for you."_

_The elf smiled at her sadly as he wiped her tears._

"_May I tell you something princess that Lord Elrond told me once?" She nodded. "He said that between true friends, words are sometimes not needed, tears are enough."_

_She smiled as she heard her brother calling to her and turned to see his strong shadow advancing beneath the silver trees with golden boughs._

* * *

Saeorii sat up quickly and gasped for breath; her memories were returning. For hundreds of years, since the day she woke in the home of Lord Cirdan, they had remained dormant and now each time she closed her eyes they leapt before her. Their faces were all so clear now, her father, mother, brother and sister. Each of them that had been left behind on the White Shores. So many had come to them from Middle Earth, seeking refuge and an end to their pain and she knew not how to comfort them. She their princess could do nothing to ease the hurt of her people and so she had sailed, left the White Shores and come Middle Earth that she might know the pain they felt and better be able to help them.

She shuddered as the sounds of the battle around her struck her newly wakened ears and she knew why the memories had returned. So much had happened in the past weeks. That same night that Eomer and Eowyn agreed to come to Gondor, Ilterrin's messenger brought word from the White City that they were under attack. The Haradrim had caught word of the weakness of Gondor's king and sought to end its reign of terror. The king however had other ideas and before dawn the next day he and the Dunedain that were with him were ready to depart from Rohan.

They would not go alone though, Eomer would not hear of it. For centuries beyond the remembrance of a man, Rohan and Gondor had been allies so, said he, would they remain. Both he and Eowyn rode out, two of the Eoreds with them. The flags of Rohan and Gondor flew high above them as they readied to leave. It was then that she had gone to Elessar, then that she told him of her remembrances, then that she told him of what she knew, then she told him that she would not be left behind in Rohan. Though the voice of men caused her to flinch in fear she would not yield to the temptation to flee, nor would she allow him to ride into battle alone.

Faramir had come to Elessar's aid, insisting that she ride with him to Gondor. Legolas however was silent for some time before he spoke and he sided with her. She had looked at him and in that moment known that he would become the brother she had left behind for he saw that it would bring her more pain to stay behind than could ever be received on the battlefield. It was he himself who gave her the elven bow, once carried by Haldir Captain of Lorien, and that now stood by the door to her tent, ready to be let loose at a moments notice.

She heard familiar footsteps and immediately pulled herself to her feet as Elessar walked into the tent briskly, his mind obviously worried as he spread one of numerous maps out upon the small desk in the centre of their tent.

"What news is there?" she asked but feared his answer as he raked his fingers through his unkempt hair and bowed his weary head.

"It is not good. Faramir and his rangers are still a good way off and the soldiers from Gondor have yet to arrive. I fear that Eomer's men are waning, they have fought too long without rest. The Dunedain continue on but soon even they will lose their strength."

She drew close and wrapped her arms around one of his and rested her cheek against his shoulder, searching for something that might be said to ease his heavy thoughts.

"I remembered again," she stated softly for she had told him each dream as it came to her so that now he knew as much or as little of her past as she. "This time the dream wasn't about someone else, it was about me. I remember my name, and who I was."

He turned to her, obviously interested for until now all the dreams had revealed very little about herself, and much about those around her. Now that he stood watching her though, waiting for an answer, she felt timid to tell him.

"Please, Melleth, I wish to know," he whispered softly and brushed the back of his hand against her cheek soothingly.

"I was called Carynthiel," she told him softly. "Princess Carynthiel, of the High House."

For a moment he seemed incapable of speech as he looked at her in wonder.

"Adar told me he believed you to be of high lineage by your appearance and voice, but never had I thought," he paused before continuing. "Never had I thought you would have come from the highest of houses. Truly, you have more right to be Queen than I to be King."

"Oh, do not be foolish," she stated, blushing as she spoke, still unused to speaking to him so freely or in so playful a manner.

Both however were startled when someone burst quickly inside their tent. Immediately, Elessar stood straighter and stepped in front of her, shielding her body with his own.

"What is it," he demanded sharply, but the messenger was so frightened he seemed not to notice.

"The soldiers from Gondor are here, Prince Faramir and the Rangers are with them but," he paused seeming unsure of himself.

"What?" her husband cried out and she winced slightly.

"King Eomer has fallen."

Saeorii felt her stomach drop.

"What do you mean he has fallen?" Elessar asked more softly and she felt his fear and placed her hand on his arm.

"He is wounded. They are taking him straight to Gondor, the healers are going with him, they say there is no time to spare."

"Thank you," Elessar told him sadly and waved the boy out, turning his back to him.

Before either had said anything though, Faramir entered and the paleness of his face told that he had heard of the fate of the King of Rohan also. Saeorii stared off into nothing as the two spoke of things that she did not wish to know of. She had learned much about death during her time as a slave to men, but this was different somehow and she knew without asking this was what the elf she had seen that day so many years and so many leagues ago. It was different for she knew the King and he was now as close a friend as any she had aside from Elessar and Legolas. She felt a single tear drop onto her hand before she was shaken awake as the two with her strode briskly from the tent.

She knew where they were going, she did not have to ask. They were going to fight, to protect those they loved, they were going to face death. She stood for a moment unsure of what she should do until suddenly she realized that Elessar was going and her legs gave way beneath her and she fell to her knees hard. He was riding out and there was a good chance that he would never return to her. There was nothing she could do. She sat like this for some time as her body seemed to become numb before she realized that she was not helpless, there was something she could do.

She stood and removed her dress, groping through her massive trunk to find the hunting dress she had made Maeve make for her. It was fit well, the skirt made of two layers so that it would not interfere when she rode. She tied the front tightly so that it fit her like a second skin. She felt dizzy as she was struck with a flash of memory, going through the same actions so that she could go hunting with her brother. She leaned against the desk and put a hand to her head, taking deep breaths until the world around her came once more into focus. She turned and reached deeper into the trunk and pulled out black leather vambraces bearing the white tree and pulled them over the wine coloured sleeves of her dress before hauling on leather boots that ended just above her knees where they met the hem of her dress. Lastly, she pulled the front of her hair back and pinned it fast in the fashion of elven warriors before picking up her bow and quiver, and taking a deep breath, she stepped outside.

For a minute she blanched and stood still, so many men running here and there and the sharp sounds of battle nearer than she would have liked. She felt a chill as she listened to them calling out to one another and remembered her captors doing the same thing the day when Ilterrin had attacked and she had escaped. She faltered, so afraid that she could not move as everyone moved around her quickly, taking no heed of the warrior who stood staring off at nothing. None took her for who she was, none would have guessed her to be the Queen of Gondor for these were soldiers and were little seen in the palace and courts. Then she saw him and felt her heart begin to beat again as she raced towards him, trying to ignore the jolt of fear that shocked through her each time one of the soldiers bumped against her unknowingly.

"Legolas!" she called out to him and he turned, obviously searching for her face amid the sea of people.

She raced towards him, ducking beneath a horse while making sure that she did not lose his face. When she reached him he grabbed her arms and looked down at her sharply, obviously worried that something had happened to her.

"Saeorii, what is it?" he demanded quickly, looking her over for any sign of hurt and obviously confused when he found none.

"Where is Elessar?" she asked him earnestly and his confusion was doubled.

"He's gone to ready his men, they ride out at dusk, and he told me you knew."

"Yes, I did but he doesn't know that I am going with him."

Her words rendered her companion speechless and he led her gently aside, behind a nearby tent so that they could speak without shouting.

"What do you mean you are going with him?" he asked warily.

"I mean that I will not stay here, cowering in my tent, just as afraid as those who protect me as those who are attacking. I will not let him die, Legolas," she stated more forcefully than she ever remembered speaking with anyone since leaving the White Shores and noted his surprise in the sudden change in her manners. She felt hot tears falling as she finished. "He means everything to me, I cannot lose him. I can't be left alone again. Please, let me go to him," she pleaded; knowing that if anyone were to understand her it would be he.

"You know not how to fight, Cirdan told me that you refused to learn, and you wished only to heal and comfort, not bring pain and death."

"Cirdan was right, Legolas, and I have not drawn a sword or knocked and arrow since I came to these shores but I did before. My father and brother taught me, I am quite skilled and can defend myself quite well."

"Since you came to these shores? What in arda are you talking about Saeorii?"

"Legolas, I have not time to explain. Please, trust me, my brother."

He turned away from her for a moment and looked out at the grim faced soldiers who were headed off to battle and the many wounded who were returning and she could almost hear his mind racing in circles before finally he turned to look at her again.

"Alright. I will take you to him, but know that you will not convince Estel so easily as you have me," he cautioned before turning and beginning to weave his way through the crowds.

Saeorii began to follow and then realized that she did not have a horse and had no idea how she could get one. Her mount, Anduril, was here somewhere but she had no idea where to begin looking. She took a deep breath and walked timidly towards one of the generals who stood nearby, speaking with one of the Ranger captains.

"Pardon me," she spoke softly and neither heard her so she took a step closer and called up all her nerve and spoke in as commanding a tone as she could muster. "Pardon me, General."

This time they both heard her and turned towards her, obviously startled when they realized who it was for she spoke as little as possible to her husband's men and spent as little time among them as she possibly could. It was not that they were bad men who would harm her, but her fear kept her from getting any closer than necessary. Now she wished she had made more of an effort for she did not even know that man's name and silently promised herself that she would when this mess was over as the two before her suddenly stood to attention.

"Be at ease," she stated, more quietly now that she had their attention and they did so. "Please, General, I wonder if my horse could be brought to me."

"O-of course, your m-majesty," he stammered, obviously as ill at ease as she herself was or more and that made her feel some better. He called to one of the pages nearby. "You there, bring the Queen's horse to her at once and see that it is treated well."

The boy was immediately on his feet and off like a frightened rabbit.

"Thank you, General."

"Of course, your majesty."

"I wonder also if you might take me to the King? He left in such a hurry and I know not where to find him in all these men."

"Of course, your majesty," he answered, obviously still puzzled as he took Anduril's reins from the panting boy as he ran up. "Follow me please, your majesty."

She did so and was glad that she did for they walked some time before she could finally hear Elessar's voice drifting towards her on the evening wind. Soon after she saw him, standing next to Legolas, Faramir and Eowyn as they examined a map and then called out orders to the men standing waiting before them.

"Thank you, General," she stated softly some distance from her husband, knowing that she could manage the rest of the way on her own.

"Of course, your majesty," he answered, saluting sharply. "By your leave."

"Actually, I've one more thing to ask of you," she told him taking a deep breath to calm the birds that seemed to be flapping about in her stomach.

"Anything, your majesty."

"Your name."

"Pardon, your majesty?" he said softly looking puzzled.

"I cannot thank you properly if I do not know your name," she stated quietly, smiling shyly.

"Oh," he paused, glancing about as if he feared someone would hear. "My name is Nammin."

She smiled, "Greatest thanks, General Nammin," she stated inclining her head as she turned and walked towards her husband.

At first the men seemed annoyed as she tried to pass through and then she heard one whisper her name and they parted easily, greeting her stiffly as she passed, each one seeming afraid or in awe of her, or a little bit of both. Then they grew deathly still as she finally stood at the edge of the crowd and Faramir looked up, his jaw dropping slightly as she continued to walk towards them, having left her mount with one of the soldiers. He spoke hurriedly to Elessar who looked up as well and stood startled for a moment before walking briskly towards her.

"Melleth, are you well?" he asked urgently in elvish and she smiled up at him.

"Aye, all is well." She saw his unasked question and paused for a moment, looking down at her feet and gathering her courage before she answered. "I am going with you."

He seemed unable to comprehend her words and just stood staring at her for moments before it seemed finally to hit him.

"No, Melleth. I cannot allow you to go into such dangers. I cannot allow you to fight. I cannot lose you," he answered quietly but she heard the catch in his voice as he spoke the last and he reached out and gently cupped the side of her face.

She took at step closer, her eyes never leaving his and she felt tears once more as she reached out and lovingly brushed back his the unruly hair from his face.

"Nor can I lose you," she whispered and waited for his answer.

He sighed deeply and bowed his head so that his forehead rested against her own.

"You are going to be the undoing of me, Melleth," he told her tenderly before kissing her briefly and then leading her without a word to come and stand beside the others with him. Legolas shook his head, half smiling as Saeorii looked over at him, for he alone knew what they had said.

* * *

"Elessar!" she screeched and pulled hard on Anduril's reins. "Elessar!"

They had ridden out at dusk as they had planned and the tide of the battle had turned with the arrival of new allies. Those who were weary seemed to gain new strength and those who were fresh were eager to aid their brothers in arms. She had ridden out at his side, her bow feeling familiar in her hands as they rode closer and closer, standing atop the hill for a moment and surveying the situation below before the horn was sounded and they raced down towards their enemy. In Elessar's hand Anduril played beautiful music as it burned with the flame of the setting sun while her bow sang at his side. They had fought all through the night and now, just as they grey dawn was breaking and the enemies of Gondor were fleeing he had fallen.

She raced back towards him, pulling back her bow as she watched him fall hard from the faithful Brego who stood at his master's side. The Haradrim soldier raced towards him, his sword, already stained with Elessar's blood, ready to deal the final blow. Quickly, she drew back her bow and released one of the white-feathered arrows to find its mark. The soldier looked up at her for a moment before he fell, dead, at Elessar's side. She felt her heart pounding with fear as she leapt from her horse's back and moved to kneel at her husband's side. She carefully turned him over and cringed when she withdrew her hand and found it tainted with his blood. The sword had gone deep, it's master's arm true and she pulled him against her as red life flowed from his side.

"Elessar. Elessar, speak to me, please," she pleaded as she brushed the hair from his pale face.

He coughed roughly and moved slightly in her arms as she stroked his cheek. His eyes opened and he smiled faintly when he saw that it was she who held him.

"Melleth, I am glad you are here," he stammered, pain razor sharp in voice as he coughed again and his eyes began to close once more.

"No!" she cried. "Elessar, please, you can't leave me."

She felt her chest tighten and she began to sob as she cradled him against her as she had that first night when she had gone to the broken king. Slowly, his eyes looked up at her and she bit her lip as she saw they were dull with pain. Painfully, he reached up his massive hand and held it against her face as he brushed her cheek tenderly with his thumb, adoration reflected in his silver eyes as he looked up at her and her dress grew wetter with his blood.

"I-I l-love y-ou-ou, Me-lleth," he stammered and his voice was soft with pain as her tears washed the blood from his palm.

"No," she murmured quietly as she watched him turn his head so he could look up at the sky, now golden with the light of dawn.

"I-I c-can hea-r the w-wind, it's so beaut-iful," he murmured softly and breathed as deeply as his wound would allow.

* * *

King Reyson had heard the pained cries of a lady and rode towards them, his men were retreating and the soldiers of Gondor and Rohan were more concerned with them than he so he walked unnoticed closer towards the voice. He felt as if he had been struck when finally all the soldiers had passed him and he saw the ones he was searching for. A mighty looking warrior lay, badly wounded, cradled in the arms of the most beautiful creature he had ever seen. They spoke to one another in a tongue he could not understand as he drew closer and saw her tears as the man reached up and touched her face lovingly.

He felt a lump in his throat as he saw the white tree upon the man's breast and knew that he was the king. This was the terrible King Elessar who neglected and starved his people? It was then he realized he'd made a horrible mistake. He had been confused when he sent word to Gondor that he had come to save them from Elessar and the messenger returned with word that if he attacked, Gondor would be forced to return blow for blow. He had not understood when he came to the field of Pelennor and saw not only the flag of Gondor but that of Rohan as well. Now he knew why, this was not a terrible man, he had been wrong. So much bloodshed due to his quick temper. He should have tried to speak with Elessar himself before attacking but his fierce Haradrimian temper would not allow it and now, their king lay dying.

He watched as the king looked up at the sky and spoke quietly while the lady who held him pleaded with him as she stroked his face tenderly and washed away his blood with her tears. He stood unable to turn away as the king turned and looked up at the lady one last time and he could see the love in the man's eyes and knew for certain he had made a mistake. The lady spoke one last time before the king's eyes slid closed and his hand fell limp at his side, no longer able to caress her smooth face as his head lolled back. He stepped towards her as she pulled the king to her breast and shook with silent sobs until suddenly she sensed his presence and looked up at him.

His heart stopped when he saw her face, never had he seen anything before that so wrenched his heart as the broken expression on her face, or the hollow emptiness in her dark eyes. Tears made small paths through the blood that now marred her flawless face. The wind blew gently as if to comfort her and blew the wisps of hair that had escaped her pin across her face, making her seem all the more a lost and forlorn child for he had seen more years than most kings. His heart broke at the sight of her and he would not have moved except for the voices that lashed out at him as several soldiers raced towards him. With them were a lord, a lady and an elf.

The elf rushed to the lady who held the fallen king, reaching for the fallen man. The soldiers formed a wall between he and the king, a look of fierce protectiveness plain on their weary faces. The man knelt at the king's side but the lady stalked angrily towards him and he longed to turn away but his guilt kept him in place.

"King Reyson, be gone from this place! How dare you linger here where you have caused so much blood to be shed."

He took a step back as she held her sword in front of her, her pale eyes blazing in anger.

"I did not know. Please, forgive me I," he stammered before he was interrupted by the lord who knelt at the king's side.

"Eowyn! He is alive! Hurry, he hasn't much time!"

The lady looked behind her before turning to glare at him once more before running back to them. The soldiers did not move although he longed to get past them and help the king if he could but he dared not for they looked as though they wished to kill him. A horse was brought and the elf moved to it quickly, the king held easily in his arms as the lord helped him to get the king up on the horse before the elf swung up quickly behind him.

"Ride, Legolas, ride with the speed of the wind," the lord called but the elf needed no urging as he raced towards the White City that shone in the distance.

The fierce lady walked towards the lord who stood waiting with another horse, the dark lady walking unsteadily at her side, the front of her dress stained with the blood of the king. Suddenly, without warning the dark lady collapsed and the lord raced to her and scooped her small form up in his arms.

"General Nammin," the lord called and one of the soldiers turned towards him.

"Yes, Prince Faramir."

"I want you to stay with Princess Eowyn. Do not leave her side until she is safe within the city gates. I will take the Queen back with me."

Reyson's stomach dropped as he looked more closely at the limp figure in Prince Faramir's arms and realized that she was the Queen of Gondor. He took a step towards them but was soon surrounded by Gondorian soldiers.

"Do not kill him," called the Princess Eowyn as she walked towards him once more and he wondered what reason there was to spare his life now. She looked hard at him, her blade still in her hand and he found that he could not meet her gaze. "Be gone from here, for if you return I will not spare you my blade," she growled fiercely and he stood there numbly for a moment, unable to understand what she had said. He saw a flicker or warmth enter her eyes as he spoke next before she turned and began walking towards the city.

"What have I done?" he murmured. "What have I done?"

To be continued…..


	21. Awaiting The End

Chapter Twenty-One: Awaiting The End

_It seemed as if everything she had ever heard or felt was whirling within her mind as she struggled to surface through the darkness that had overtaken her. Glimpses of things of the past seemed to loom before her in no particular order, leaving her struggling to survive the barrage of emotions that pounded against her. There was the ship as she boarded and sailed from the shores of Valinor. Maeve as she bent over her, smiling broadly, her eyes wet with tears of joy, "A child." The woman's words echoed in darkness for a moment before she saw the shady shores of Middle Earth before the treacherous sea destroyed their ship. Then the face of Elrond as he welcomed her to his home with open arms. _

_There was Legolas, then Eowyn and Ilterrin, Cirdan and Frodo, Faramir and Elrohir, Eomer and Elladan. Then without warning came the harsh face of her master, looming from the darkness as he held a brutal whip, poised to come crashing down against her broken body. She trembled; she was running now, the trees seemed familiar and at the same time strange and she came to a small stream in the middle of a clearing. She felt her heart leap at the sight of him and called out his name. He turned but it was not the face of her beloved but the cold and callous expression he had worn when first she met him. She stopped short for a moment, daring not to go any further and just as suddenly as she had found herself in this place she was gone. She opened her eyes and looked out, her sight stretching nearly to the sea as she stood at the pinnacle of Minas Tirith, hearing the wind whisper softly through the White Tree of Arnor as tears slipped down her pale cheeks._

She woke suddenly and abruptly, torn from the sorrows of her dreams to the horrors of reality. She had woken once before but only for a short time while Maeve spoke to her before she slipped back into the darkness of her dreams. She sat slowly, resting against the headboard as true tears dropped onto the velvet blankets that covered her. She was safe within the palace, the blood of her lover had been washed away and her skin was white once more as early dawn peaked through the massive windows surrounding the doors to their balcony. Frost covered the windowpanes although she knew they were far enough south they would see little snow. For a moment she wished that it would snow, just to glimpse its pureness before the reality of her husband's condition blackened the day.

The soft light cast strange and bitter shadows as she sat, staring out the window as if expecting the snow to fall at her silent bidding. She hugged herself tightly and found that she was weeping, unsure of when she began, only sure of how her heart pained her as she sat shivering in the early dawn. Not even the fire that blazed in the hearth across the room could force any warmth into her body. There was a soft knock on the door and she held her breath, unsure of what she feared as someone entered silently. She waited until they stepped from the shadow and felt relief wash over her as she saw his fair elven features, deeply etched with concern. She felt the tears falling again and silent sobs tore her from the inside as he moved quickly and took her in his arms, holding her while she cried, knowing that it was not his arms she longed to feel so carefully wrapped around her shaking form.

* * *

Faramir stood looking out at the cold wintry day and wishing for some sign of spring that might bring light and warmth to this, the darkest of days. He sat at his desk, just off the throne room and although the room was small compared to that of the king, it suited his purposes as he was gone from Gondor most of the year anyway. He stood, unable to sit still as he paced back and forth in front of the windows, looking out at the dreary sky above for it seemed even the earth itself mourned this day. He looked out, thankful that Ilterrin had offered to oversee the soldiers this day as they continued to bring the fallen back to Gondor. He had not the strength.

He had not slept last night, and little the night before as they waited for word as to the condition of the king. Late in the night, Eowyn had come to him and told him that Eomer was awake. Immediately, he had gone to his soon to be brother, wonderfully thankful for some sign of hope, some sign that all would not be lost. Eomer looked weary and had lost much blood but the healers assured him that by the late days of summer, the young Rohirric king would be as robust and strong as ever, no doubt leading the Rohirrim on some errand or another. It would take time, but word that Eomer would live had brought him hope that word might soon be brought to him of Elessar as well. It had not come.

He paused and looked out the window at the city below. There was no distant sound of laughter, no bustling merchants in the streets; the streets were empty. The announcement of the king's state had been given less than one hour ago. He had stood atop the stairs to the palace, Eowyn at his side and watched as the people of Gondor broke with grief. Many of the women left crying; the children were silent, many remembering the man and elleth who had become their most valued storytellers and beloved playmates. The men remained stone faced, but he could see the pain behind their tight masks as they took their grieving families home.

He watched as four soldiers came through the city, bearing one of the fallen, as his grieving family followed silently. Though Gondor's losses had not been great in numbers, to some they had meant the entire world. He only prayed that one lady might be spared this grief for she had known so much already he feared that the king's death would destroy her. He had gone to speak with Maeve after telling the citizens of the king and found she had gone to rest. Legolas was there however and although the elf seemed a master of hiding his emotions, Faramir could sense the aching pain within the elf for his friend. More than ninety years had the elven prince and mortal king known each other, Faramir found it hard to fathom the bond between them. They were not friends; they were brothers.

He ran his hand through his unkempt hair and sighed deeply, dreading the days that were to come when he as Steward and Prince of Ithilien, must take the place of the king. He did not wish to be king and would have given anything to see the rightful king wandering the streets of the city below and bringing joy to his broken people once more. The city that had once rejoiced and looked to the palace with thoughts of kindness and hope, now was eerily still as if all were holding their breath and waiting for the final blow to be dealt.

A knock on the door made him jump and his heart constricted with fear as he wondered what news would be brought him. The past two days since he had laid the queen to rest in her chambers had made him feel beyond his years and he was well of aware of this as he wearily bid the person to enter. They did and his heart paused when he saw that it was Maeve, her cheeks were wet with tears that she tried quickly to wipe away, but to no avail.

"Maeve, what news do you bring me? It is better you speak it for the known, however terrible, is worse than the unknown."

"It is the king, your majesty, he grows worse with every hour and we have nothing more that we can do for him. It is beyond mortal skill I fear, to save him now."

He felt his shoulders slump as he turned from her so that she would not see the tears that escaped from the corners of his eyes. He cleared his throat and nodded, but did not turn to face her.

"Thank you, Maeve."

Without another word, she left him alone and he let one quiet sob break free before he bit his lip, refusing to let any more tears fall until the man was dead. He leaned against the window, feeling the coolness of its thick panes against his bare forearms where he had long ago rolled up the sleeves of his tunic. He stood still for a moment, breathing deeply and trying to control the emotions roiling within him but could not. He struck out, pounding his fist against the stone until he had no more strength before he fell to his knees and wept as he had not since the news of his mother's death was brought to him as a child.

He heard the door behind him open soundlessly and knew that only one would be so bold but he did not turn to her as she entered, nor did he hide the fresh tears on his face as she came to kneel beside him. Finally, after many moments of silence, he looked up at her and saw that her eyes were red with tears; her face streaked with salt as she bit her lip and tried to stifle her weeping. He reached out and tenderly pulled her close to him as they dried each other's tears and waited for the end.

* * *

"Take me to him," her soft request had startled him after they had sat together for nearly two hours without a word between them. He looked up at her.

"You are weak, Saeorii, you need rest."

"I have slept for two days, Legolas. I thank you for your concern, but I must see him," she pleaded, looking up from his arms where he held her close, fearing if he let go she would fade before his very eyes.

The dark depths that looked up at him imploringly melted his heart and he knew that a strong bond had been forged between them that would never be broken. She was now his sister, perhaps not by blood, but by ties that were even stronger. Never would he allow her to be hurt by men again as her eyes told him she had been. Never.

He pulled away from her slightly and stood, moving towards the end of the bed and reaching for a thick velvet robe as he saw her slide her legs out over the edge of the bed and carefully slip her feet into the soft slippers that waited at the bedside. He returned to her side and carefully wrapped the robe around her frail shoulders, pausing to tie her long dark tresses back from her face before moving to stand in front of her. He held out both arms to her and she clasped them firmly, with more strength than he would have guessed her to possess. For a moment she did not move, seeming to be summoning her strength from some secret place that he did not know about before she stood unsteadily to her feet.

She stood motionless for a moment and he knew that even the slightest breeze would have taken her feet from under her. As it was she only took one step before trembling and falling to her knees. Immediately, he knelt and examined her to be sure that nothing was bruised or broken before looking at her once more.

"You are too weak, Saeorii, please, just rest a little longer," he implored, fearing he would lose his sister almost as soon as he found her.

"Help me get up," she whispered, and her voice told him she was in pain.

"Please," but the words that were to follow died on his lips as he saw a flash of the newfound determination in her that he had first been witness to mere days ago just before she rode out with Elessar to face the Haradrim.

"I have spent decades as a prisoner of men, please do not you imprison me as well, gwador nin," she whispered as she rested her head against his shoulder.

He sighed deeply and kissed the top of her dark head before moving to stand with her. Again she wavered, but this time she did not fall as she took steps, gradually through the door to the outer rooms. The dull grey clouds cast strange light upon them as they walked slowly towards the massive doors that would lead them into the King's Hall where only the most privileged were given entrance. He paused, his left arm supporting her as he knocked sharply on the door and it was opened before them. The guards stood straight and watched with slight wonder on their face as their timid queen walked with resolve past them. The hall was lined with guards and each stood to attention as they passed and Legolas knew that it was not the elven crown he wore that caused them to do so.

The doors were opened before them and they were led into the outer part of the King's Hall where his closest friends were given massive rooms of fine silk and beautiful white stone. These rooms were better than any others in the castle save the King's and perhaps those reserved for the Steward in the second most well guarded hall in the castle where the Councillors dwelt. Their progress was slow and they stopped often so that Saeorii could catch her breath but never did the desire to reach her husband diminish.

They paused longest before the doors that would lead from the silent safety of the King's Hall into the halls were servants and messengers, courtiers and lords, would walk without thought to the fear he sensed welling up within her. She had felt no fear riding out towards an army, but shook at the thought of those she would meet in the halls of her own home. Legolas felt a sudden burning anger to know that such a great creature had been so marred. He wished there were something he could do to lessen her fear but knew that only time would heal the wounds that could not be seen. At last she nodded and he motioned for the doors to be opened.

They continued through the halls, but to his relief they found them nearly empty. The servants they passed looked at the beautiful creature at his side with mournful pity, knowing well how much she loved the one who now lay dying in some other part of the castle. They took the less used hallways that, though less guarded, would see them to the Healing Hall with greater speed. This was important for two reasons: that it would limit the number of people they met in passing, and that the elleth beside him could go no further than was absolutely necessary.

They had nearly reached the Hall when he heard slow footsteps ahead of them and knew that Saeorii had heard them as well as she stiffened slightly beside him and held his arm a little tighter. He hoped for a moment that the person might turn off into another hall but found that instead they came closer and closer. With each step the elleth at his side trembled and he sensed that the imminent death of Estel had made her fear of men even stronger. Her protector had fallen, who now would protect her from the foul words and even fouler deeds that men were capable of?

Legolas looked up as they turned the last corner and saw that it was one who he recognized as a member of the new council that Estel had formed shortly before his departure from Gondor. The man, his sable hair streaked with silver, paused in surprise at their approach. He inclined his head and Legolas returned the gesture.

"Your Majesties, forgive me, I did not mean to intrude upon your solitude. I only sought some measure of solace for myself before I go to my wife and children. They are most grieved to have heard news of the King. We all are," he finished softly, his gaze coming to rest upon the fragile queen.

"Most gracious thanks," Saeorii answered quietly from his side, but he noticed that her eyes would not meet those of the kind man who stood before them.

"By your leave," the man requested quietly and wordlessly, Legolas thanked him for he knew the man had noticed Saeorii's fear.

"Of course," he answered politely as the man bent slightly before walking away from them as the doors to the Healing Hall were opened for them.

He knew which room it was; he had borne the man here after he had fallen. He could still remember well the sick feeling in the pit of his stomach and the great weight of his friend's wilted body in his arms as his tunic grew wet with red blood. He could still remember the smell of the herbs that had been given to the man as soon as he arrived. He could still remember, standing and watching soundlessly as the healers tended to the man's wounds, his body numb with the realization that this might be the end.

* * *

She stood, mere steps from where he lay, fighting for his every breath and nearly losing this most important battle. Legolas' arm was strong around her waist and she allowed herself to lean against him as he led her towards the large bed where Elessar lay. She shook as she saw him for the first time since she had held him upon the battlefield. His face was whiter than her own, dark hair pulled back so that she could see his noble features well as she moved towards him. Finally, she sank slowly onto the edge of his bed, simply watching the uneven rise and fall of his broad chest as time stopped around them.

_She stood watching the swirling white while she waited for his return. She had stayed for some time after he went to Faramir, with Eowyn and Eomer before at last finding her way back here to the room that had been given to them for their stay in Rohan. Her spirits were heavy and she sensed that the howling wind brought bitter tidings this night as the candles behind her burned low, reflecting strangely against the glass. _

_She sighed and then moved to their bed, knowing she would not find rest until he was beside her despite the two Dunedain who stood guard just outside their door. She blew out the candles next to their bed and slid between the soft sheets, soothed by the sound of the wind as it smoothed the rough castle of stone. Finally, she heard his steps, and relaxed as the echoes grew closer. _

_He entered, and obviously guessing her to be asleep, began to undress silently before he sat on the far edge of the bed. For a moment he did not move and she could sense him watching in the darkness. He sighed mournfully and she turned, his worry weighing heavy on her heart and looked at his strong silhouette against the stormy darkness. She sat up and slowly slid towards him, resting her chin in his shoulder and gently stroking his arm as he chuckled softly._

"_I thought you were sleeping, Melleth."_

"_Nay, I waited for you," she answered quietly before asking the question that burned within her. "What troubles you this night?"_

"_Ilterrin has sent word, King Reyson of the Haradrim has declared war."_

_His words seemed to make the walls grow closer and for a moment her hand stilled before she brought it to rest upon his large hand._

"_When do we leave?"_

"_At dawn," he answered tightly and she knew he feared not for himself but for her and for his kingdom, still so weak from the rampage of Sauron._

_She sighed softly and moved closer to him, wrapping her arms around his neck before moving to kneel on the bed behind him. She moved her hands to rest upon his broad shoulders and wordlessly began to kneed the tight muscles in his neck. She smiled as she felt them loosen beneath her gentle touch as her hands moved up his neck and then back down to his shoulders, trailing lower and lower down his back as he bent so that she could reach him more easily. He rested his arms on his legs, his head bowed forward and sighed with pleasure as she worked the tight muscles of his shoulders until they were nearly limp and he moaned softly with pleasure. She laughed lightly, pleased that she could bring him some comfort._

"_What of Eomer and Eowyn," she asked at last, her hands never ceasing their movement as he answered languidly._

"_They will come with us. Eomer says he wishes to repay the debt he owes for my fighting in the battle for Helm's Deep. I told him no repayment was necessary, but he insists. He is nearly as stubborn as Gimli."_

"_You are glad he is going," she spoke softly as her hands moved up towards his neck again._

"_Aye, though I do not wish him to ride into danger, it does my spirit good to know that he shall be at my side."_

"_That is well," she answered and he moaned softly as she unwound yet another knot._

"_Faramir has ridden ahead to ready the Rangers of Ithilien. He promised to bring as many as Osgilioth can spare."_

"_That is good." For moments they were silent again as she continued until at last she broke the silence. "All will be well, my love," she whispered softly, sensing his uneasy thoughts. "Gondor shall not fall."_

_She was startled when he sat straighter suddenly and ceased her hands, pulling her forward so that she rested against his back, her chin resting on her shoulder once more._

"_No more talk of wars and battles this night," he instructed, his voice husky as he kissed her hand tenderly and rested his head against her own._

"_Tis morning, my lord," she answered teasingly and gasped softly as he swiftly moved and lay back on the bed, laying her gently against him._

_She cradled her head in her arms and looked up at his face as he watched her, lovingly brushing his rough hand against her face. She smiled and felt his hand pause before it moved and ran down her arm slowly. At last it returned to her face, but only for a moment before he pulled her to him and grazed her lips gently before moving slowly deeper and deeper. He reached up and ran his hand through her long hair as she answered him and he moved further onto the bed, his lips never leaving hers as the wind wailed without the walls of the castle._

That night, nearly three months past had been the last night they had been together; she felt a tear slip from beneath her closed lids as she wondered if it would be the last. She shuddered from deep within and laid her hand gently against her stomach as she opened her eyes at last. Legolas sat nearby in a chair, his watch over her never ceasing. Fearfully, she looked to her beloved, her hands shaking like a frightened child's as she stroked the side of his face tenderly. Tears streamed down her face and she could taste bitter salt as she sat watching as his ever breath drew him farther from her and nearer to death.

To be continued…


	22. Courage To Smile, Wisdom To Hope

Chapter Twenty-Two: Courage To Smile, Wisdom To Hope

The night was still and all the palace waited in silence for word of their king. She had not moved since Legolas had brought her here this morning. Elessar's hand was cradled gently in hers and she rubbed it subconsciously as if to remind him of her presence. The moon was full and cast a brilliant light through the windows as the twinkling stars watched over them unceasingly. She looked around the room where those who kept watch over her slept uneasily.

Legolas' flaxen hair had fallen over his face as he rested his chin against his chest, but she knew he was only dozing for she was acutely aware of his watchful presence. Next to him, snoring quietly, was the stout dwarf who had become in the days since Elessar fell, her most fierce and loyal protector. Never did he let her out of his sight unless she was with Legolas or perhaps Faramir. Lastly, was the young prince who had kept the city of Gondor safe while they were away, he that had come to her during her time in Nian, he who had killed his father to set her free. Ilterrin's face was lined with weariness and she longed for him to be free of the burdens that his past had laid upon him but knew that it could not be.

She looked, as she had all day, to the weak figure of her husband as his shaky breath continued, each pause between seeming to be longer than the last. She sighed softly and took the cloth on the nightstand and wet it with cool water from the nearby pitcher. With shaking hands she laid it across his burning forehead and prayed that the Valar might spare him.

All day as she had sat in tense silence, she had tried to recall the elven knowledge that had been forgotten upon her arrival on these shadowed shores. All the lessons taught to her by her father, mother, brother and sister. Many came to her and she gained some comfort from the return of her memories but with them came yet another sorrow for those who were now remembered, dwelt across the sea in Valinor, far from her grasp. Many were those who loved her now but they could not compare to those who had loved her as a child and tried to shield her from all the pain that she had felt upon these shores.

Still, she could not help but wonder if she would have felt shame at having lived a life free of pain, sorrow and hurt, knowing that those who came to their shores had suffered for many years while she had lived freely. What of all those who she never would have met? No, despite the pain she had learned here, it had taught her to value peace and joy more. What right had she to live happily while so many here suffered?

Her heavy thoughts were too much to keep still and so she rose, leaning forward and kissing his pale face tenderly, before she silently left him. Two of the Dunedain stood guard outside the door and they both saluted her stiffly as she passed. The halls were empty, even the healers it seemed were sleeping as she wandered the lonely hall, lit with torches embellished with silver. She walked to the end of the hall where large glass doors let in the light of night and she gazed across the plains that surrounded them, sparkling with the heavy frost of early spring. The city was dark, no lamps burned within the yawning windows, no sleepless man wandering the streets, no young mother soothing her small child.

It seemed all mourned the death of their king but as she considered this, another thought struck her hard so that she leaned against the cool glass to keep herself from falling. She mourned him and yet he was not dead. Had she truly so little hope that he would live that already she had surrendered him to Mandos? Worse than this was the fact that all others had lost hope as well. With Elessar fallen they now looked to her to be their hope and she had failed them. She let her forehead rest against the cool glass as warm tears slid down her cheeks, crying for the hopeless people of Gondor and for her own selfishness. She was not the only wife whose husband had fallen that day, in fact many had lost not only husbands but brothers and sons as well and yet they did not stop living as she had. She who knew better than most that it is not the pain felt but the will to live that determines who shall stay and who shall journey on.

She reached up to wipe away her tears and heard a soft sound that tore at her heart. She turned hoping to find its source and stopped at the door across from the room where Elessar lay. For a moment she hesitated, unsure of what she should do before opening the door noiselessly, closing it gently behind her. The room was dark except for the dying coals that sparked half-heartedly on the hearth of warm stones. Without speaking she made her way to the bed across the room where the large form of the mending king of Rohan could be seen in the dim light. However, it was the slender form of his sister that held her attention as the woman wept quietly, her face in her hands at she sat on the small cot that had been brought for her.

Eowyn tried to stifle her crying, afraid that she would wake Eomer, or Faramir who lay on the couch beneath the window, sleeping. She did not understand why her tears came now after she knew that he would fully mend but she could not contain them as she sat watching the even rise and fall of his broad chest. She had almost lost him and that thought overwhelmed her now as she sat alone, weeping in the darkness. She had already lost so many, her mother and father, Theodred and her uncle, and now Aragorn lay nearby fighting to stay in this world. She lay down slowly, burying her face in the soft sheets as sobs shook her body.

She gasped when she felt a warm hand brush against her own softly. She looked up and was surprised to find that she could see her face plainly for it shone as if the light came from the elleth herself and not the window behind her. She immediately pulled herself up and swiped fiercely at the tears as the queen stood watching her silently.

"Please, forgive me, I did not mean to wake you, your Majesty," she apologized hastily, her voice thick with tears, but there was no trace of anger in the queen's fair face and so she continued. "I was just sitting here thinking about…and I, I just started crying and I don't even know why…I'm just, just," and she covered her mouth with her hands as she began crying again, unable to speak her terrible fears.

Without a sound, the timid queen sat down beside her and Eowyn was surprised to feel herself pulled against the queen's small form. At first she pulled away slightly but the queen held her gently in place and finally Eowyn surrendered, burying her face against the soft velvet robe as the queen stroked her head soothingly and spoke words that she could not understand as painful sobs pulled at her. Slowly, her tears grew less and she rested against the queen feeling safe as she had once felt in her mother's arms. The moon's light altered and the sky grew dark as the queen shifted so that Eowyn's head rested in her lap. She felt warm and safe, like a child as the queen draped a blanket over her, stroking her hair and singing softly as the first sounds of life began outside.

* * *

Faramir woke to find the sun partway through its morning journey. He woke with a sense of peace that was a stark contrast to the overwhelming despair that had held him as he fell asleep the night before. He had vague memories of a sweet, haunting melody, a song of the First Born that he had once heard Legolas sing following the War of the Ring. He rubbed his face with his hands as he sat, telling himself it must have been a dream. Eomer seemed not to have stirred the whole night through, which was comforting and he stood and moved to the side of his bed, watching as the Rohirric king slept soundly. For some time he stood without speaking, remembering how close to death the man before him had come and how much closer to death his king was now.

He sighed deeply and pulled the blankets around Eomer before moving to leave, pausing only to look at his beloved who lay sleeping peacefully near her elder brother. He knelt and kissed her gently at which she stirred only slightly before returning to dreams that he hoped were filled with peace and happiness. The hallway bustled with the quiet tenseness of the healers of Gondor as they walked silently to and fro, from one patient to the next, each one glancing at the door where they knew the king lay as they passed. The guards outside Elessar's chamber inclined their heads as he moved to open the door but his hand paused midair when he heard someone call to him softly. It was Maeve and she motioned him to follow her into the outer hall. He looked back at the door once before leaving the hall, unable to rid himself of the notion that the king might be dead at this very moment and he did not know it.

"They are not there, my lord," she whispered quietly and he looked at her puzzled, wondering who she was speaking of. "The queen and the others who waited with her, they have gone."

His throat went dry and his voice was hoarse when he finally gathered the courage to speak the words he knew he must.

"Then the king is dead?"

"Oh, arda no! Forgive me, my lord, perhaps I have been too guarded in my speech," she answered as his heart began beating once more. "There is no change in his Majesty's condition, it is the Queen who has changed."

"She is not ill, I hope."

"Nay, not at all, quite the opposite in fact," Maeve answered quickly and Faramir realized that they were walking towards the outer doors. "She has gone into the city."

Faramir stopped at her words, unable to understand what they meant, all he could manage to ask was,

"Is she alone?"

Maeve laughed for the first time since the king had been brought to the palace.

"Nay, Prince Legolas and Master Gimli are with her, Prince Ilterrin has begun the preparations for the Foreign Council."

"You do not mean that the Council has decided to have the others in Gondor while the king is ill?"

"That is precisely what I mean, under orders of Queen Saeorii."

Faramir was not sure what surprised him more, that the Foreign Council would meet as planned in a matter of weeks or that Saeorii had been the one to decide it. He realized what this meant; she had accepted her role, as Lady of the White City, the thrones of Gondor would not both be empty. He thanked Maeve hastily and rushed outside the palace where two Dunedain stood guard. They nodded as he passed but he did not heed them as he flew down flight after flight of stairs toward the heart of the city. As he did he heard a strange sound and paused as he realized suddenly what it was: the City. All around him came the hum of voices as the people of his city slowly began to fill the streets as they had done since before he could remember. It startled him for the city had been silent for so many days and yet now, as suddenly as the return of spring, it had come back to life.

He continued on, his progress slower now as the saddened people left the shelter of their homes while the sun shone down on them, the warmth of the coming spring in the midmorning air. Suddenly, the air was pierced with a familiar, yet distant, sound and he was surprised beyond words as he hurried towards it. The wonderful laughter of children rang through the air like the purest of bells or horns and his heart felt lighter as it grew closer. Above their light voices came the gruff laughter of Gimli and the trickling laughter of the elven prince. He turned the last corner into the largest courtyard and felt tears in his eyes at the sight that met him.

If he had ever doubted the magic of elves was strong in his queen there was no doubt now as he watched her among the laughing children. She wore a simple dress, the colour of deep violets beneath a cloak of black upon which the white tree of Arnor glistened in the sun. Her dark hair was loose except for two strands that were pulled from her face and fastened with a silver clip shaped like a star. Her fair cheeks held the colour of the palest rose, an enchanting light seemed to come from her as to make the morning sun seem dim and though she did not laugh as her two companions, her dark eyes danced. A small girl pranced at the queen's feet and stretched her hands up expectantly to which the queen smiled tenderly and pulled the little one into her warm embrace. As she stood with the child in her arms, she caught his gaze and her cheeks grew darker for a moment as she timidly met his eyes. He saw there the deep sorrow that made the depth of her eyes deeper and the fear that made her seem slightly smaller.

She had not forgotten her husband who lay inside the palace, but neither had she forgotten her husband's people. He had heard the whispers of many who spoke of what would happen when the king died. Who would become king? What would become of Gondor? Many feared those Elessar had banished from the Council would rise up and dethrone their elven queen; others believed that he himself would be called from Ithilien to sit upon the throne where his father had once sat as Steward. They spoke of the queen's fear, her tentativeness, and the cruelties that had been done to her, although most knew only a little. She held the heart of the people of Gondor but still they wondered if she would be strong enough to continue. He did not wonder for he had seen in her the timid love that mended the heart and soul of his broken king, the great compassion for the fearful and hurting people of Gondor, the gentle determination with which she faced the army of the Haradrim, and now, above all this, he saw her silent strength that gave her the courage to smile in times of sorrow and the wisdom to give hope to all who doubted.

* * *

Ilterrin yawned, his eyes burning with weariness as he stared at the endless replies of those who would begin arriving as early as tomorrow for the Foreign Council. He paused, resting his head in his hands as he tried to imagine what would take place without King Elessar there to keep peace and order. Though the Council of Gondor respected him, he feared that he was not well enough informed about the issues that would be brought before the Foreign Council to do them justice. He was relieved to know that Prince Faramir, King Eomer and Lady Eowyn would be with him but still feared that he would be seen as an ignorant child. He did not wish to dishonour Elessar, who had shown him much kindness and friendship in the past months.

He sighed and stared into the flickering flames of the candles upon his desk that burned low, as the night grew darker without. There was so much to do and it was much more difficult to accomplish it all when the better part of him wished to be sitting at Elessar's side. He shook his head, knowing full well that he would accomplish no more tonight and had stood to blow out the candles when a young page burst through the door.

"What is the meaning of this," he demanded sharply, having learned that in Gondor he needed to be firm, lest he be trampled beneath the feet of the lords and ladies of the house.

"Please, Prince Ilterrin, there are visitors at the gates who request council with the king."

"You know that is not possible," he stated, his temper flaring at the audacity of some who believed that the king, who now lay on his deathbed, should greet them at the gates. "If they are here for the Council you must tell them that they will have to wait for the gates to be opened in the morning."

"They say they will not leave and that if King Elessar will not come to them that they must speak with Prince Faramir."

"Where are they from," he questioned sternly.

"They bear no banner and will not say, but their voices are strange, like nothing I've ever heard before."

He stood, unsure of himself for a moment, staring at the stone floor beneath his feet as he wondered who these people might be. Few indeed were those who demanded anything of the mighty King Elessar.

"Shall I bring Prince Faramir for you," the boy asked quietly and Ilterrin realized that he had been standing there without speaking for some time.

"Nay, Prince Faramir is with King Eomer and Lady Eowyn, I would not disturb him unless I am left no choice. I will go to them myself, bring me my mount."

"Yes sir, your Majesty," the boy called as he raced down the hall, forgetting to close the door on his way through.

Ilterrin blew out the single candle that now flickered dimly and strode after the boy, his stomach growing tighter as he wondered who stood at their gate. Surely it was not some foe, come to strike Gondor down at its weakest moment. He nodded to the guards who saluted him as he passed through the doors into the crisp night air. He reached for his mount, pausing a moment to look at the moon that turned the sleeping city of stone to silver as he rode through the empty streets, his horse's hooves echoing like the striking of hammer against steel. By the time he reached the gate a small crowd had gathered but they parted for him as he rushed up the stairs to the gate tower where he found Kar speaking nervously with two of his companions.

"Tell me what you know of those who demand council with King Elessar," he spoke quickly, knowing that with Kar, formalities were second to the well being of his king and queen.

"They speak little and their voices are strange," the man began but Ilterrin interrupted him.

"Strange how?"

"Well, your Majesty, if I were made to guess I would say they are elvish voices. They are fair and remind me of the Queen's sweet voice, though perhaps not quite so fair as hers. However, they will not answer our questions, which is strange for elves are usually forthcoming."

Ilterrin stood for long moments wondering what was to be done while the men around him watched him closely. He walked towards one of the small windows and could just make out the shadows of three mounted figures below. He could hear their soft voices drifting upward and recognised, as Kar did not, that they were indeed speaking a soft tongue, similar to that of the elven prince who now dwelt with them in Gondor. He thought it strange that there should be elves here this time of year for he knew well the treacherous weather of the north lasted long after the fairness of spring began here in Gondor.

"Raise the gate," he instructed quietly as he made for the stairs. "I will speak with them. Do not challenge them, but keep your weapons close. I do not wish to offend the elves but nor do I wish to be caught unaware in some scheme that our enemy may have devised for us."

Their answer, if they gave any, was not heard by him as he rushed down the stairs again, the grinding of the gate mechanisms masking the sound of his footsteps. As he reached the bottom the loud clank of the portcullis told him that the gates would soon be open. Softly, he ordered the guards to stand down, which they did warily and he knew they doubted him as the gates at last swung open and the three riders entered. Their mounts bore no tack of any type and their cloaks made them seem mere shadows in the moonlight. The two foremost dismounted while the third kept his seat, observing the goings on in watchful silence.

"Please, we must speak with King Elessar," one stated in the common tongue, though Ilterrin noticed the slight accent of the stranger.

"I fear that is not possible, my lord," he answered sternly, surprised that his voice did not betray the fear he felt.

"Please," spoke the second, "then where is Prince Faramir?"

"I fear that neither is able to meet you, I have come in their stead. I am Prince Ilterrin, of Nian and have been the guard of this city while his Majesty was in Eraidor."

"That is all very well but perhaps you could tell us why we are not allowed to see the king," the first stated, his voice growing hard and making Ilterrin even more wary.

"Firstly, you come to us armed, but bearing no banner. Secondly, you tell us nothing of who you are or in who's name you come, how are we to know whether you are friend or foe?"

"Well spoken, young prince," the first answered more kindly, "and in time we shall be made known to you, for now you must be content to know that we are friends to Gondor but firstly is the matter of the king."

Ilterrin felt more at ease now that these strangers were within the gates and fell silent for a moment as he looked out at the dark plains behind them. He looked back at the two who stood close to him, their slender forms almost lost in the shade of the guard tower as the men around him stood tensely, waiting for his word but he knew that none expected the words he spoke next.

"Close the gates," he ordered quietly and waited until the gates were closed before he spoke once more. The guards looked at him strangely, but he ignored them, speaking only to the strangers who he could sense were watching him. "By all laws of this city, you should be made to leave but there is something about you that bids me to trust you despite the fact I know you not. I do not doubt what you have said, and sense that you are closer to the king that I know. Therefore, it is with a heavy heart that I must tell you of his state. He has been wounded and now lies within the palace, his beloved and all our friends at his side where I shall soon go as well, for they tell us that it is likely that he will not survive the night."

* * *

Her tears fell steadily but her lip did not tremble, nor did harsh sobs break the deafening silence as they all sat, waiting for the moment they feared most. She sat on the edge of his bed, his hand held in one of hers while she absently stroked the side of his face with the other. His wound was too deep; there was nothing more that those of Gondor could do for him and it grieved her more than anything she had ever known. At first she had been afraid of him but soon he had become her refuge and now she feared what would become of her if he should pass.

She intertwined his fingers and hers; gazing at the two silver bands they bore that, in the custom of men, told of their marriage. She remembered the ring she had once wore that told she was a royal of the High House but all its beauty meant little to her. She smiled sadly through her tears as she caught herself thinking that his beard had grown too long and remembered fondly its roughness against her face when he kissed her. She would remember his deep voice, his silver eyes that shone like stars, the deep rumbling of his laughter when her head lay against his chest, the way his face changed when he smiled. She would remember his tenderness, the gentleness of his touch, his mighty strength, the sense of safety she gained from his presence. More than all this though she would remember the feeling of lying with him at night, safe in his arms, listening as the palace grew quiet around them before he would kiss her softly. She would always remember him.

She blinked quickly as tears blurred her vision while the others stood nearby, their own tears shining like liquid gold in the light of the many candles that burned around them. She leaned back against Legolas and turned her head against his chest, letting him wrap his arms around her as she wept soundlessly against him, her husband's cool hand grasped tightly in her own while his breaths grew shorter. Faramir stood behind Legolas, his hand firmly grasping the elf's shoulder as he watched his king fade. Nearby, Gimli stood, his head bowed as tears glistened in his rough beard. On the other side of the bed, Eomer sat, his own face still pale from the injuries he had incurred. Behind him stood Eowyn, who rested her chin on her brother's broad shoulder, rubbing his arm soothingly as he wiped her tears. Ilterrin had not yet come and she feared that perhaps the young prince would be too late as beside her Elessar wheezed painfully. She turned from Legolas as Maeve moved forward, eager to ease the king's pain in his final moments if it was at all possible.

She jumped when the guards knocked softly at the door and looked back quickly at Faramir who went to the door. She turned her gaze back to Elessar; afraid if she looked away he would leave without her knowing. She waited to hear the soft sound of the door shutting but did not and at last pulled her attention from her husband and back to the door. She gasped and felt Legolas turn to look as she leapt unsteadily to her feet and raced towards the door, fresh tears falling as she was surrounded by the protective embrace of her husband's brothers.

"Elladan, Elrohir," she whispered quietly in elvish, unable to say any more. Elladan pulled her closer and kissed her hair softly before going to the bed where his brother lay dying. Elrohir held her close and let her cry quietly for some time before at last he spoke.

"We have come, Carynthiel," he whispered in her ear, the last word softer than the others as her heart stopped and she looked into his grey eyes questioningly as she heard Legolas gasp behind her for he was the only one other than Elessar who knew her by that name here.

He brushed his hand against her cheek lightly before stepping away so that she could see the door behind him as a third figure entered. His hood was dark grey like those worn by the twins but he was taller and there was a familiar power about him that made her shiver, making her glad for Elrohir's arms around her. Legolas now stood behind them and the others were watching closely as the figure took another careful step forward. For a moment she doubted but her heart told her that it was true. She stood, Legolas and Elrohir at her side, staring at the third elf that stood watching her silently. She could sense the elf's anguish, his sorrow, his grief, but most of all his love.

To be continued…


	23. I Have Missed Your Singing

Chapter Twenty-Three: I Have Missed Your Singing

His mind was overwhelmed at the sight of her. Thoughts and memories from centuries ago came flooding back to him from the time before she had left him. Nearly three hundred years had passed since the day he had stood at the edge of the shore, watching her sail away from him. For nearly three hundred years he had stood at the edge of the shores, the silver sands cool beneath his feet, the salty breeze sharp against his skin, as he watched the sun rise, hoping to see the light of her ship returned on the horizon. It had never come.

He could still remember that day, less than a century ago when he had stood there watching the sun rise and felt the first blow that a foul hand dealt his youngest daughter resonate deep within his soul. He had fallen to his knees and cried out to the Valar to save her but it seemed that she was beyond their reach. For years he suffered, sensing the pain of his daughter in his spirit while his mind told him that as king, he could not go to her. So, he had stayed, watching as broken and hopeless elves sailed to him, none able to give him word of her. It seemed to him that she had never reached those shores and had been lost forever, swallowed up by the sallow sea.

Then came a ship bearing elves from Imladris, one of whom could speak of what he had hoped for each morning as he stood, bathed in the light of the golden sun while tears slipped down his cheeks. The elf's name was Imril and had been one of Lord Elrond's councillors before he had sailed. Imril said that in the years before going to Imladris he had dwelt in Mithlond and knew of the one he sought. The elf told him sadly that a beautiful elleth had washed ashore three hundred years ago among the wreckage of a ship of men. Her hair was the colour of obsidian, her eyes the colour of a starless night, her skin the purest alabaster: he had known it was she.

The elf told him that she was taken to Mithlond and cared for by Cirdan the Shipwright. He also told him that she held no memory before the time she washed upon those shores and his heart had broken to know that the one who used to call him Adar would no longer know him. For a moment he had been soothed with the knowledge that at least she was safe among her kindred but that moment had shattered like glass with the elf's next words. She had dwelt there with Cirdan for two hundred years before leaving to dwell in Imladris and learn the skills of Lord Elrond. On the way, she and those she travelled with were ambushed; all but she were found dead some days later by a search party sent out by Lord Elrond. She was never seen again, though Imril assured him that many still searched for the Lost Lady.

He had walked with heavy steps to his home and told this news to his wife and two elder children who wept with him. That evening as he lay in bed with his wife he told her that a ship was being made ready and that he was going to Middle Earth to search for their child. That he would not return until he found her and brought her home if she were well and if not he would lay her to rest in the Golden Wood and sail from those cursed shores never to return again. He had been startled by his wife's insistence that she would sail with him and again when both his son and daughter claimed the same. So it was that they set sail, just as the sun broke upon the water and turned it colours that no tongue could tell.

For many days they had sailed, the soothing cadence of the ocean's voice their only comfort as they sailed from the light of Valinor, knowing that in Middle Earth a war waged against the Dark Lord. When weeks had passed and Valinor had finally slipped from hindsight, he stood at the bow looking as far as his elven sight could see across the incessant water that surrounded their ship on all sides. At first, he had thought that his eyes were deceiving him but as he watched the diminutive spec upon the water he perceived it grew closer and he saw that it was as he had first thought, a ship.

For three days they watched the white ship grow closer, all those aboard tense with anticipation for they knew by the craft of the ship it was elven and he wondered what news these elves might have. At last the ship pulled along side and ropes were tethered to hold the two ships together as he walked to the portside, preparing to meet more weary travellers but never had he expected what he found.

_Elves more like those of Valinor stood waiting for him, their faces light and free from pain with the knowledge of the White Shores before them. Three elves there were, mighty and fair. With them a familiar man clothed in white and at his side a small creature the likes of which he had never seen. The darkest of the three elves stepped forward, smiling broadly, great wisdom in his face as he stretched out his hand._

"_Well met, my brother, few indeed are the ships that sail eastward in these days."_

"_Indeed, they are few while many ships sail to the west, though few with such as you among the passengers. May I inquire as to your name?"_

"_Of course, I am Lord Elrond, former master of Imladris. This lord to my right is Lord Cirdan of Mithlond, and this fair lady to my left is the Lady Galadriel, of Lothlorien. This," he stated, gesturing to the elder and the small creature at his side, "is Mithrandir, the White, known by those of your land as Olórin and with him stands Frodo Baggins, the Ring Bearer." For a moment all speech was lost to him as he realized that a better group to answer the questions that burned within him could not have been found. "And what of you, who sails to the shores of sorrow?"_

"_I am King Silmarn, High King of Valinor and one whose house is refuge to all those who come to us, weary of wars and death."_

_To this the elves and wizard touched their hands to their forehead and bowed deeply. He shook his head, "Please, it is not necessary."_

"_Why do you travel to the east, your majesty" the lady questioned, her voice soft and kind._

"_I seek my daughter who sailed to your shores some years past and has since been lost to me."_

"_All here know of her," the wizard spoke and Silmarn was startled by the power of this man, one of the five Istari who had been sent to the east millennia ago. "For her looks are akin to yours and she bears the presence of the High House which I once knew well."_

"_Known well to me you are Olorin, though you are changed since our last meeting. I am glad to see that you survived. What may you tell of my daughter?"_

"_There is much to tell, but it is a long tale and dark as well. Perhaps if you would board our ship we might discuss it at further length."_

The words spoken that day had chilled his heart. Many things were told to him, the tale of the War of the Ring and the falling of Sauron by the hands of the small hobbit that sat with them that day. The telling of the falling of Saruman the Wise, the fading of Lothlorien, the return of the King to Gondor, and lastly, the taking of his daughter. As he stood here in this city of men he understood the pain he had felt as her eyes showed him all that had been done to her, the mending scars that could not be seen by mortals but were plain to elves.

They had sailed to Middle Earth, three of those they had met joined them; their hearts still in Middle Earth despite the pain they felt. Elrond's sons had met them in Mithlond, and from there he had rode with them to Gondor. The others had continued to sail south, to the Bay of Belfalas, where it would be a shorter ride to the White City. His eyes never left his daughter, though none could tell beneath the shadow of the cloak he wore and he could sense those in the room watching him warily.

Finally, unable to stand still any longer he strode quickly toward her and caught her as she ran to him, tears streaming down his cheeks as he pulled her close, the silver hood slipping back, revealing his elven features so much like her own.

"Carynthiel," he breathed, trying to keep his body from shaking as he wept for joy at having found his lost child.

"Adar," she answered and his heart swelled with the knowledge that she remembered him.

He closed his eyes and kissed her head lovingly as he thought of all the horrifying things that had been done to her and wished that he had been there to protect her. He should never have let her leave. He was content to have her stay in his arms but she pulled away from him slightly and turned to look back at the sickly mortal who lay in the bed behind them.

"What is it, my child," he asked her in elvish, sensing her pain as she watched the man draw feeble breaths that would not sustain him much longer.

"He is dying, Adar," she answered, her voice breaking as she buried her face against his shoulder.

"And what is the death of this mortal to you that it should bring you such pain as this?"

She pulled away from him and he was surprised by her sudden strength as she looked up at him, her eyes filled with tears.

"He is my husband, Adar, and I love him."

He could not speak as he remembered what the wizard had told him of his daughter's marriage to the king of men against her will. Although what he remembered most, as he looked down into her sorrow-filled eyes, was the affection in the wizard's voice as he told of the trueness of this king of men; his kindness and wisdom beyond that of other men, his likeness to the elves in both thought and manner. He glanced at the man who lay dying as his elven brothers attempted to stay his journey to Mandos and then back to his daughter, knowing what he must do before he spoke.

"Then I will do all in my power to save him," he assured her, kissing her forehead fleetingly and letting go of her as he strode quickly to the side of the man's bed.

He deftly undid the clasp at his throat and draped his cloak over the man who shivered violently though he burned with fever. Elladan moved aside quickly and he sat beside the mortal, his heart racing as he took the man's cold hand in his own. Behind him he could hear his daughter weeping as the flaxen-haired elf held her and spoke to her soothingly. Those around him watched warily as he dipped a cloth in cool water and washed the man's face with it, murmuring in the healing tongues of the Valar, his heart softening toward this man as he watched him struggle for every breath.

What right had he to condemn this man for past wrongs? Had he not been the one who allowed his daughter to sail to Middle Earth in the first place? No, to condemn this man for one wrong action was unfair. He sensed in this man that lay dying beside him, great wisdom, courage, valour and kindness and knew that Olorin had spoken well as he tried to save the king.

"Do you need anything, your majesty," Elrohir asked quietly as he stood watching intensely, his jaw tight with worry for his mortal brother.

"Nay, young one," he stated, smiling sadly as the man's breath began to even somewhat next to him. "You and your brother have ridden long, you need to rest."

"I can take you to a room, Elrohir" one of the men offered, obviously understanding elvish well enough to know his instructions.

"Thank you," he answered awkwardly in the tongue of men that was so strange to him, to which the man smiled and nodded as he led the twins out and down the hall they had just come.

He turned back to the king, startled to see that the man's silver eyes were open and watching him through the haze of his fever. He squeezed the man's hand tightly and leaned closer to speak to him, his words soft and flowing in the elder tongue of the Valar.

"Elessar, you must stay strong. You must remember all of those who wait for you. You must remember your kingdom, your brothers, and your friends. You must remember my daughter who loves you, I would not have her taken from me by a broken heart now that I have found her," he finished his voice more urgent as he watched the man's eyes slowly shut.

The wheezing stopped and for a moment he was afraid that the man had not heard him until he felt the hand he held press his own weakly. He knew then that Elessar, King of Gondor had heard him and had not stopped fighting yet.

* * *

The city had come to life with the return of its Lady for she had visited them in the streets again this morning as the city woke from its state of slumber. He had seen her through the crowd as he quickly gathered bread for their morning meal before returning to his brothers, sister and mother who awaited him anxiously. All through the morning his mind had been filled with memories of the evening that the mighty king and graceful queen had spent with he and his family, partaking of their meagre meal. Once they had finished breakfast he had taken the dagger from its place on the mantle and left quietly, careful that Balon and Airon did not follow.

The streets were busy, the travellers were gathering here as they did every year, eager to see the splendour of the Foreign Council. Yet, they were less joyous this year, having been told of the great king who lay within the palace dying. He weaved his way through the crowd, artfully dodging the shuffling merchants who cried loudly the prices of their wares. As he reached the higher levels, reserved for the nobles and their families things grew quieter although it felt strange not to be among the cram and bustle of the lower levels where he had dwelt since childhood. Finally, he reached the tower where guards stood fully armed, the first line of defence against any enemy.

He felt his knees shaking slightly and he swallowed hard as he caught sight of their spears, glinting coolly in the light of the spring sun. He paused for a moment before stepping forward and walking toward the path of polished stones lined with silver that led to the stairs of the palace. The first two guards crossed their spears and looked down at him menacingly and he suddenly felt very foolish.

"Halt! In the name of King Elessar I charge you, what is your business!"

"I, I wish to see the king," he stammered quietly and watched as the elder guard's eyes lit with contained laughter.

"And what business have you with the king?" he asked more kindly and Trien stood slightly taller feeling less afraid.

"I wish to return something to him," he stated more firmly, holding up the dagger so that they could see.

The elder guard took it from him and examined it carefully and then looked back at Trien, his eyes sharp like the dagger he held, for it bore the mark of the king.

"Where did you get this?" he questioned, his voice hard as flint.

"I-I," he stuttered and became silent at the sound of a soft voice.

"It belonged to Estel many years ago," a soft voice interrupted and Trien looked with the guards to see a fair elf standing just behind the two guards. "He gave it to a man named Sirrius many years ago, when he was first in Gondor."

"He was my grandfather," Trien piped up, somehow feeling safer with the slender elf standing nearby.

The guards eyed him warily but the elf only nodded and smiled kindly. He stepped forward and the guards parted their spears so that he could pass.

"What is it you wish, young soldier," the elf asked quietly, his eyes serious though his face was gentle.

"I wish to give this to King Elessar. I wish, I wish that I could see him again," he answered, his eyes cast to the ground as his cheeks burned.

"It shall be as you say," the elf told him kindly as he turned to the guards. "I shall speak for him."

"Of course, Prince Legolas," the guards answered in unison, handing the dagger to the elf and standing at attention as the elf motioned for Trien to follow him through the arc of guards.

He followed the elf in silence, unable to keep himself from glancing up at the one who led him, now aware that he was royalty and remembered having seen him when the king first came to Gondor. They passed through the doors and walked down the hallways, he stayed close to Legolas, expecting someone to order him to halt or question his presence but they did not. He soon became lost among the halls of white stone and windows of gleaming glass that let the brilliant sunshine into the palace so that it seemed the palace itself was shining. Servants rushed back and forth, preparations for those who would arrive soon being done as swiftly as possible though he doubted that the king was far from their thoughts.

Finally, they entered another smaller hall and here it seemed that all things were done in hushed voices; the quietness was deafening after the easy murmur of the other halls. The elf stopped in front of a door where two ominous looking guards stood, their colours weapons different from the others.

"They are the Dunedain," Legolas offered quietly as he knocked on the door and Trien was slightly unnerved by the elf's perceptiveness.

A quiet voice answered the elf and the door opened, Legolas entered but Trien hesitated, unsure of himself. What right had he to see the king?

"Go on, young master," the guard to his right stated, his face softer and his voice kinder than before so that he looked much less threatening.

Trien took a deep breath and stepped into the room, expecting that it would be all in darkness as most rooms were when very ill people were kept in them, but instead he was met with soft sunshine. He stood for a moment, jumping slightly as the guards closed the door quietly behind him, looking at the room around him. The heavy velvet drapes were drawn back and sheer fabric covered the windows, allowing the light but softening it somewhat so that it was not so sharp. The elf that had led him here waited for him patiently as he took everything in. A large bed stood against the wall adjacent to the windows where a dark elf much like the queen sat, looking at him kindly. The elf's presence however, was much more powerful than his friendly appearance and Trien felt as if the room suddenly grew smaller as he swallowed hard. Beneath the window sat the one he sought, her dark eyes sad despite her smile as she talked lightly to the mighty dwarf who sat beside her.

She seemed to sense his presence however, despite the fact that he had not spoken and touched the dwarf's arm gently ending his speech as she stood and came towards him, her voice just as beautiful as he remembered.

"Trien, it is good to see you again. I hope that all is well," she greeted him, standing before him timidly despite the fact that it was he who was the stranger in this place.

He remembered suddenly that he should bow and did so as his father had taught him.

"All is well, Your Majesty. I-I only wished to bring this to you," he stated as the elf beside them handed the dagger to her. "I-I wanted you to have it, in case, well," he blushed unable to state the reality that the king might pass.

"That is most thoughtful of you, Trien, thank you," she paused for a moment, seeming as unsure of herself as he was which in some strange way made him feel more at ease. "Would you like to see him before you leave?"

He looked up at her gentle eyes and nodded silently and allowed her to lead him to the bed. The grand elf watched him, his face impassive though his eyes were benevolent, as he approached the bed. The queen's hand was on his shoulder, as he stood, unable to comprehend the sight before him. The man on the bed could not be the king he had known. He breathed softly, each breath difficult as he stirred uneasily from the fever that caused him to shiver. His face was ashen and his hands seemed lifeless, like they had not the strength to hold a sword. His eyes were closed but he somehow sensed that the sharp argent eyes that had once burned with life had now grown dim. He felt the first tears and turned away, ashamed to cry in front of these great people.

However, something inside him drew his gaze back to the dying king and he looked more closely. He looked past the weakness of fever, the pain of his wound and saw the still regal features beneath the sheen of cold sweat. He could see the broadness of his shoulders and silent strength in the large arms that were bare above the tight bandage on the king's chest. Somehow, though the king appeared to be sleeping, he could hear the resounding sound of his deep voice and sense his presence that matched that of the mighty elf who sat at his side. He looked back to the queen, wiping away his tears as she smiled at him sympathetically.

"Thank you, your Majesty," he whispered but he was startled when he felt her place the dagger in his hand.

"Speak to him, Trien," she urged softly.

Nervously, he stepped forward, the harsh sound of the king's breathing growing less sharp and more relaxed as he stepped closer. His hand shook as he took the massive hand, calloused by years in the wild, in his own and wrapped the fingers around the dagger before placing the hand on the bandaged chest. For an instant his hand rested on the king's and he watched, unable to find words to describe the emotions roiling within him.

"Please, your Majesty, don't leave us," he pleaded as stinging tears burned his eyes, before stepping back and turning toward the door, knowing somehow without asking, that Legolas would be right behind him.

* * *

The sun's flaming light was beginning to fade and its pastel hues of gold and crimson fell on the resting form of her husband. The day was coming to an end, bringing with it the watchful night and the everlasting stars that hung silently in the sky above. She breathed the scent of the spring air deeply as she sat on the edge of his bed, his hand cradled in her own. For the first time since they had returned to the city, she was alone with him. All were in the council chambers, even her father was with them, willing to lend any advice he was able despite his wariness of the men of Middle Earth and their doings.

The soft melody of the songbirds outside told her of the return of spring to this place and she sighed, remembering that a year ago her sorrow had been of a different kind. She looked down at him, studying his face in the golden light of the sun and prayed that Elbereth might spare him. She knew that if he did not survive she would return to Valinor, her heart and spirit wounded beyond even the greatest to mend. Her heart was lightened by the knowledge that the others of her family would be here before the Foreign Council and with them would be Elrond, Gandalf and Frodo. She smiled, her mind drifting to the wondrous times she had had with Elessar in Rivendell, before the others sailed, before the battle with the Haradrim, after her fear of men had lessened, after she had learned to love the man who now lay dying next to her.

She felt the new stirring inside her, her heart light at the thought of the life she carried within her but the shadow of Elessar's death could not allow her to feel all the joy she should. She placed her hand over her stomach as tears fell swiftly from her eyes, wondering if Elessar would ever see the face of his child, ever know of its existence. He had told her how much he longed to have a child and she sobbed silently as she laid her head on his chest and realized his wish might have been granted too late.

The warm breath of spring carried the voices of the city below to her as she lay silent, her throat tight with tears. She ached with loneliness despite the return of her father and all those around her, she longed to feel his tender touch, to be held safe within his strong arms and know that everything would be all right. She tucked her feet up beneath her and nestled close to him, taking refuge in the warmth of his body next to hers. She sang softly as she lay with her eyes closed, feeling the rise and fall of his chest, wondering if each rise would be the last.

Instantly, her voice caught in her throat and her eyes flew open as the deep sound of his voice resonated beneath her and joined her own in song for a moment before breaking and falling silent. She sat up swiftly and her heart soared as her eyes were met with burning silver. She gasped as she sat, staring at him, her tears no longer of sorrow but of joy immeasurable as he reached up and lovingly brushed her cheek with the back of his hand while he looked up at her adoringly.

"I have missed your singing, Melleth," he whispered, his voice rough from disuse as she wept for joy. "Do not cry, Melleth, for I shall never leave you. I love you above all other things on this earth."

"And I you," she answered as she bent down and kissed him gingerly before he gently guided her to lay beside him once more, his hand caressing her as she sang of hope and life to the one she loved before both slipped into easy dreams, secure in the knowledge the one they loved was near.

To be continued…


	24. Until The End Of My Days

Chapter Twenty-Four: Until The End Of My Days

The searing pain of the blade that had ripped through his flesh still lingered throughout the haze of unconsciousness. He knew the blade had gone through his entire body, how it had missed all that was vital to life he did not understand except that he must be in the grace of the One. The time in this place was indefinable for each day was a moment and every moment an eternity of aching life. His body tormented him and taunted him as he struggled to remain upon Arda despite his pain for he remembered the one who waited for him.

He had seen her once, woken to find her at his side, her face marred by tears as she sang to him softly. Whether it had been many days ago or only a moment he was not sure but the sensation of her body pressed against his lingered with him even now. It seemed the miasma of death was lifting and the senses that told him of life were becoming alert once more. Through the fog voices now drifted to him from time to time, the voices of all those most dear to his heart; the soft voices of his brothers and Legolas, the deep quiet voice of Eomer and the strong young voices of Faramir and Ilterrin, the gruff voice of Gimli and the light voice of Eowyn. Yet, there was one voice that he did not know and each time he heard it the pain seemed to lessen.

There, he felt it again: the soft sweetness of the spring breeze across his skin. He was not dead. There was still life in him. With this thought he struggled, fighting through the mists the engulfed him and hastening towards life once more. He felt the presence of another beside him and he was suddenly acutely aware of the warmth of the sun upon his face. Slowly, he moved his head slightly, feeling the dull ache intensify for a moment before dying away. He breathed deeply as his wound would allow, smelling the sweetness of green things growing, tainted by the sharpness of the sea from the warm south. Here in the darkness it seemed all his senses were stronger but still he longed to leave this place behind, never to return to it.

Finally, he opened his eyes, blinded by the sun for a moment and squinting as he tried to gain his bearings and determine where exactly he was. He slowly became aware again of the presence of another and turned his head to the side, away from the light of the day, to see a formidable figure sitting beside him, his face a mask of indifference as he watched Aragorn with dark and steady eyes.

"Where am I," he asked, his voice weak even to his own ears.

"You are in Gondor, young King," the figure answered as Aragorn's eyes began to focus enough to distinguish elven features. He chuckled carefully and looked up at the elf.

"I am no longer young by measure of my people," he answered, but there was wariness in the elf that made him slightly uneasy.

"Yet, to me you are still young," the elf responded, his tone soft yet unforgiving and Aragorn wondered what made him so.

"How long has it been since I last woke," he questioned, the soft sound of the curtains upon the floor of stone bringing his attention again to the golden sun.

"Nearly four weeks."

"How can that be," he wondered to himself, yet the elf replied nonetheless.

"I have given you medicine to make you sleep for your brothers warned me that you would not rest if I did not and you have been in great need of rest."

Silmarn watched the man intently, looking for any fault that would give him cause to take his daughter from this city. Although he had been told much of the greatness of this man Elessar, once called Aragorn, a mere ranger of the north for nearly ninety years before he at last became what he was born to be, he still could not trust a man who had married his daughter against her will, or at the very least at a time when her will was not her own. Yet, he saw nothing in this man who lay, watching the white clouds skimming across the blue sky, which warned of something unkind or treacherous.

"I thank you, my friend," the man stated softly, turning his silver eyes to Silmarn and in them Silmarn saw elven light as he had never beheld in the eyes of a moral as the man smiled at him kindly.

Silmarn nodded stiffly, caught off guard by the man's open gentleness and beginning to understand that all that had been told to him of this man was true. For long moments he did not speak, it was Elessar who broke the silence between them.

"What is that sound," the man asked, his voice distant, his eyes closed as he smiled peacefully.

Silmarn looked up, wondering what the man meant and listening closely. Then he heard it, surprised that the man had heard it before him.

"Laughter," he answered quietly, watching as the man breathed deeply and then turned to Silmarn.

"Help me stand," the man asked, his eyes pleading so that Silmarn could not seem to deny his request though he knew he must.

"You are too weak," he reminded the king who shook his head vehemently.

"Nay, I know my own strength, please, help me stand," Elessar asked again more forcibly.

Silmarn stared at the man a moment before at last nodding his assent wordlessly. Already the man was raising himself up on his arms, and Silmarn put a strong arm around the broad shoulders that heaved with strength even now after a month in bed. The man swung his legs out over the side of the bed and then sat for a moment to steady himself before easing his feet onto the stone floor. With one hand on Silmarn's arm and the other braced against the bedpost the man rose to his feet, swaying for a moment before standing still.

"Where is it you wish to go," he inquired as the king seemed to become more sure of his strength and made his way toward the end of the bed.

"Just to the window," the man assured him, his voice tight with discomfort.

Silmarn followed, his arms ever-ready to catch the stubborn king but the king did not fall, did not even falter as he walked with steady steps to the large window that had been opened that morning to let in the fresher air. He stood back slightly, watching the man, wondering what he was thinking of as he stood, watching the city below.

"The wind speaks of her joy, can you not hear it," the man whispered reverently and Silmarn was struck with the realization that he had not.

This man, this mortal, who had once raised his hand against his daughter, was now closer to her in thought and in spirit than he himself, her own father. Elessar let his weight rest against the stone wall as he leaned his head against the window frame and Silmarn did not miss the expression of delight etched into the man's features at the wind's whisperings of his daughter. He felt suddenly a great sorrow come upon him, like the mighty waves of the ocean upon the sandy shores for he knew, with great certainty, that his daughter would never leave this place.

He had watched her in past days as she sat next to her husband, holding his hand and singing to him tenderly. Perhaps there had been a time when she had feared him, had not loved him, but that time had passed. Despite the sorrow and pain that hid in the depths of her shady eyes, there was a joy and a light, as he had never seen in her before. She had come to these shores and learned of pain, death and sorrow and had learned to feel joy in spite of these things, which perhaps made joy all the more special.

"Do you love her," he asked quietly, watching as the man turned to him, not doubting that the man would know of whom he spoke.

"You did not know me before, King Silmarn," the man began and he was astounded that the man knew his name, for he had not told it to him. "You did not know me before your daughter found me, after the death of Arwen. You do not know how empty and broken I was nor how indifferent I had become to life and the lives of my people. Your daughter came to me, though she feared me above all things. She brought me hope, love and a reason to live. Through her sorrow, she brought an end to mine and reminded me how to laugh, how to love, how to hope.

"Do I love her? I love her above all other things and would give my kingdom if it meant I could take away her fear and erase the pain that has been felt by her. Yet, there is naught I can do to change the past and so I only pray that she might find peace here with me for what days are gifted to me, for she is my most precious treasure. I shall love her always, until the end of my days."

Silmarn did not doubt Elessar's words as the king of men looked to him for an answer. He felt pride to know that his daughter had wed such a man, to know this man was his son. He did not move beneath the true gaze of silver eyes but stood, listening to the wind, to the sound of laughter that had stirred life within the man before him. He saw anxiousness in the king and realized that he had not spoken. Noiselessly, he reached out and drew Elessar into his strong arms, feeling the man stiffen in surprise for a moment before returning his embrace.

"May your life with my daughter be blessed," he whispered when at last he could speak, "you will be ever in my heart, my son."

He released Elessar, the man turning once more to gaze out the window as if hoping to catch a glimpse of the one whose laughter had awoken him. He watched closely as the man ran a calloused palm across the white strips of cloth that were bound tightly around his chest, testing for pain as his eyes grew more focused. Suddenly, he turned to Silmarn, startling the elf slightly as the man spoke firmly.

"Take me to her."

"What do you mean," he asked, although he had already guessed what the man desired.

"Take me to Carynthiel, please," the man implored, his eyes bright with longing. "I will return quickly if only I might see her for just a moment, just to know that she is here, within my city, safe and well."

Silmarn turned, wondering just how strong this young king believed himself to be, having just stood for the first time in a month. However, despite his doubts, his heart urged him to allow it. He reached for the loose shirt and light boots of elven make that sat upon the chair nearby and handed them to Elessar who smiled at him widely, his argent eyes bright with delight at the thought of seeing his beloved again.

Many of those who had come for the Foreign Council, stood watching those who ran upon the grass where the children had been brought as a safe place for them with so many travellers galloping through the streets. To these men of distant lands, the sight before them was strange. For the children to have been brought to this honoured place was strange, but beyond their understanding was the sight of those who ran, laughed and played with them. Their eyes followed the King of Rohan, who knelt on all fours, two small boys laughing riotously as he shook them about. Nearby, the Steward of Gondor, Prince of Ithilien, raced about as the children chased him, one of whom rode upon the shoulders of young Prince Ilterrin. The stout dwarf, sat perched upon the edge of the fountain, regaling many children with tales of riches deep beneath the earth. The Lady Eowyn sat, a small girl in her lap as she wove a bright green ribbon through the child's dark hair. The three elves, played tag with an energy that was envied by those who watched, while the children shouted and called after them excitedly.

Most enchanting though, was the Lady of the White City who ran with the three elves as a child ducked behind her dress, trying to escape the grasp of one of the son's of Elrond. Her pale face was coloured by the cool breeze, her shadowy eyes lit with the light of the stars as her laughter rippled like a cool brook and hung upon the wind like the morning mists upon the mountains. She wore a dress of pale blue, tight around her breasts and then falling loosely about the rest of her body, its long flowing sleeves concealing her slender hands from sight. She was radiant and left those who watched her speechless.

They watched, a feeling of peace descending upon them that they did not fully understand, contented smiles upon their faces and laughter in their own hearts. Still, all were startled at the appearance of a tall man, dressed in nothing more than a loose navy shirt, white breeches, a pair of boots and a belt from which hung a sword. His carriage spoke of nobility and he walked as if in a dream toward the children who paused in their games at the sight of him. For a moment they seemed unsure of themselves, the adults with them looking upon the man in awe as the children rushed toward him.

The man smiled, his silver eyes dancing as he opened his arms wide to the children who came to him, each laughing, smiling and shouting his name. _Elessar! Elessar!_ It was then those who watched knew who the man was and all felt strange to see the king who had nearly died, surrounded by children who hugged him and called him by name. This was no way for a king to be treated and yet, the king seemed to be ecstatic, calling each child by name and embracing each one before standing to face the nobles who watched him, gladness written plainly upon their features. At last the children pulled back and he waded through them to the cool green grass where those who loved him most stood waiting.

Closest to him was Eomer, who bowed slightly as the King approached before Elessar embraced the younger man fiercely. Next was Eowyn who, like her brother, bowed before she reached up and gently kissed his cheek, her face wet with tears. His elven brothers and Legolas pulled him gently to them and he sighed deeply, their presence comforting as they whispered to him in the tongue of the Eldar. Ilterrin bowed, more deeply than the others for it seemed of those gathered here, he knew the young prince the least and he nodded, knowing the prince expected, nor desired anything more. He turned to where the others stood, watching him. Faramir's face lit with elation as the King clasped the man's forearm and then drew him close, remembering how Faramir, son of Denethor had stood by him through all the darkness of the past. Beside him was Gimli who simply nodded and grinned, his teeth clenching a pipe of weed from the Shire.

It was then his heart stopped, his breath caught and it seemed as if the world would fall away. His knees grew weak and his eyes filled with tears yet it was not from pain but rapture unlike anything he had ever felt for the child she carried could no longer be hidden beneath the folds of silk that engulfed her slight form. At last he walked toward her, noticing her anxiousness and the hint of fear in her dark eyes as he did so. He reached out and rested the palm of his hand against her pale cheek, revelling in the smoothness of her skin beneath his hand.

She watched, her heart racing within her as he drew nearer and nearer, her mind unable to believe what her heart told her was true. He was alive! He was here, among his people once more, where he belonged. He turned at last toward her and she felt the ticklish touch from the blossoms of the White Tree that danced gently behind her in the light morning breeze. She smiled shyly, as if somehow things had changed and as she laid her hand upon her swollen stomach she remembered that they had. She had been so excited about the baby until this moment: what would he think? Did he even want a child now? Her stomach was filled with hundreds of velvet-winged butterflies that refused to be still as he walked closer and closer towards her. She felt tears in her eyes as he reached out with his large hand and cupped the side of her face. For the first time in many long months, she trembled beneath his touch.

"Melleth," he asked softly, as he dropped his hand instantly aware of her fear and trying to understand why he had been the cause of it.

Timidly, she looked up at him, fearing she would see the scorn that had so often been upon the face of her masters but her heart melted when she saw instead his tender smile and tears. After so long she should have known that he would not condemn her; that he would remain understanding and gentle as he had always been. He sensed the lessening of her fear and drew her close carefully and she felt the child stir within her as she leaned against her husband. She was slightly startled when he leaned forward, burying his face against her neck, breathing deeply as if starving for air and she could not help but laugh for his beard tickled her skin as he kissed the nape of her neck lightly.

He chuckled quietly, secretly elated by her laughter before pulling away so that he could see her endless eyes, sad to find doubt in them.

"You are glad then," she whispered and he felt a fool for not having thought that she might ever doubt his desire to have his child.

"Am I glad," he exclaimed and she cried out in surprise as she felt a surge of strength run through him and he lifted her gently off her feet, spinning her round and round, laughing from sheer pleasure as she placed her hands upon his broad shoulders to steady herself before at last he set her down again. "I have never been more glad of anything, Melleth."

She smiled at his assurance, holding his gaze and he watched with delight as her eyes shone and the doubt left her fair features. She stretched her hand up and stroked the side of his face lovingly before gathering her courage and drawing him close to her, brushing her lips against his. Laughter tickled her throat as he deftly drew her nearer and parted her lips, allowing him to taste her. Her cheeks burned crimson as she shyly satisfied his hunger for her and he felt young once more, all shadows of pain vanishing, as he tasted her again. She was startled by the great cheer of the crowd of people that had gathered here, word of the King's return having quickly spread to the city below. Her cheeks were hot as he gently pulled away, his eyes telling her it was against his heart's desire to do so.

Her eyes followed his movements as he reached past her and carefully took one of the white blossoms from the tree behind her. He tucked the delicate blossom behind her ear and grinned, before leaning down to taste her once more. She shivered slightly at the sensation of his hand running through her hair, her past loneliness seeming stronger now that he stood with her. At last he released her and his eyes danced as she looked up at the one who had become her strength, her protector, her friend, her lover and knew that she was home.

"Long live, King Elessar! Long live, Queen Carynthiel!" cried Legolas, Eomer taking up the cry behind him and soon the citadel rang with the voices of the city, echoing across the plains.

She smiled up at Elessar who kissed her forehead gently before taking her hand and guiding her to face those who cheered. She felt a tremor of fear at the sight of so many people but caught among them faces she knew, no longer did the faces of her masters haunt her here. She followed Elessar as he led her closer to them, her mind telling her to fear men but her heart telling her she was safe with the one she loved nearby.

"Long live, King Elessar! Long live, Queen Carynthiel!"

These were the shouts that awoke King Reyson as he half walked and was half carried by those who now held him. He opened his eyes, startled to find himself in a city of white stone as he shifted his arms, which ached from the cords that bound him. Again, he struggled to walk on his own, looking to those who guarded him and sensing their malice. He could not blame them after all he had done. Through the fog of his fever and pain something nagged at him, just beyond his reach as the voices of the crowd grew louder and he felt the pressing of bodies surging forward around him. The city was alive.

He had spent the past weeks, held in a prison in Osgilioth by the Rangers of Ithilien. Only now was he being brought to the White City; his judgement was at hand. He sighed, which brought on a pained cough and his body shook from the effort. He was old. His days had passed. He only prayed that his son would be a wiser man. The wide steps of white stone seemed an insurmountable challenge but he was not made to face it alone. The two rangers closest to him took his arms and carried him up the last steps where he could see that the crowd of people had gathered. He knew only from tales that this was Minas Tirith. He wondered what it would have been like to come to this city under different circumstances, to ride through its streets towards the tower and look out across the plains. He would never know.

The crowd's cries were silenced at the sight of him and all parted that he and those who brought him might pass unhindered. By the time they had reached the front of the crowds he could hear the flowing of the fountain that stood beneath the Tree of Arnor. The rangers let go of him and immediately he fell to his knees, unable to stand any longer. Before him loomed the mighty figure of the King of Rohan, beside whom stood the Steward of Gondor, Denethor's son and another younger man he did not know.

"Who is this and why have you brought him to this place," demanded the Rohirric king, his voice deep and strong.

"This is the traitor, King Reyson of the Haradrim. He is the one responsible for the war and is the betrayer of his Majesty, King Elessar," answered one of the rangers and Reyson flinched at the rage in the man's voice.

He looked up at the King of Rohan who glared at him with disgust but it was the Steward who strode forward, sword drawn, his eyes set in pained anguish. Reyson did not turn away or try to flee but instead bowed his head, knowing that death would be painless.

"Faramir, no," commanded a rich voice that was strange to him but it stayed the Steward's hand though his eyes still smouldered with heated fire.

His eyes looked to his judges but they were no longer watching him. Instead they had moved aside and knelt low on one knee. Reyson felt his stomach lurch and his heart stop as he realized to whom they paid tribute. Behind him, he heard the rustling of cloth like a soft rushing of air passing over the grasses in late summer near the harvest and knew that all behind him had knelt as well. The rangers beside him stood straight, their eyes wide and he looked with them.

He could not understand; this man should have died. He had seen the blood for himself, seen the pain and seen the lifeless form cradled in the arms of the Lady of the White City. He was not dressed as the king Reyson knew him to be, but he knew none could doubt it for there was a presence about the younger man unlike anything he had ever felt before. His grey eyes were strangely kind despite his silent strength and in his hand he held the Sword, which shone like silver flame in the brightness of the morning sun. Beside him walked the beautiful lady whom he had seen upon the field that day so long ago, her beauty still startling, her eyes darkened with pity. Though she was great with child, she moved with a grace unknown to the races of men and he could not help but gaze at her as she watched him shyly, obviously remembering him.

His eyes returned to the great king who stood before him, Reyson felt suddenly very small for there was a strange ageless wisdom that seemed to cloak the mere man who stood before him. At last he could stand the silence no more and looked up at the King, his eyes blinded by tears.

"Forgive me, King Elessar for what I have done. I was wrong. Let your servant kill me as he so desires for it is a fate unworthy of me that I might have an honourable end."

He bowed his head, waiting with a strange sense of peace for the blow that did not come. Instead came the words of the king, soft yet resonating like the rumbling of thunder so that he was sure all present could hear.

"Who am I to judge the death of a man? For I am not without flaw or fault and my past speaks clearly that I am not perfect. Many who live deserve to die, but perhaps it is they who know best to do with the time that is given to them. No, I will not condemn you this day nor shall any other here. You are an honest man, King Reyson, you have my peace."

Reyson looked up at the King of Gondor in awe, noticing for the first time the three elves that stood behind him and was startled by the King's likeness to them. He was surprised when the Lady left the side of the King and walked slowly toward him, as if she were afraid of him. Carefully, she knelt in front of him and reached out her small hand, laying it against his cheek. He closed his eyes, sighing at the sensation for her hand was cool like water from a clear spring in wintertime.

"Let him be freed," the King commanded from where he stood behind his wife, watching tenderly, his face made less stern by the gentle smile there.

He looked to the gentle lady as her husband, the King of all Men, knelt down and cut the bonds that held him.

"Come my friend, you are weary. Rest in my halls until your strength has returned to you. No more shall we speak until you so desire," he looked up at the King but found that two of the elves, identical in feature and in gentleness, were helping him to stand.

He allowed himself to be led toward the palace but turned suddenly and looked back toward the King who knelt where Reyson had left him, his wife held lovingly against his chest. He smiled for the first time in many days, knowing that this king was greater than any other. He knew now the light he had seen in the king, for this man was more of the First Born than of Men. Indeed, the King of Gondor had returned to his people and great would be his kingdom, greater than any other kingdom of men within the recollection of men or elves.

To be continued…

Alright, sadly, there are only two more chapters of this story and then we must begin again. I have three, perhaps four, Third Age AU stories for Aragorn, revolving around the Tolkien timelines, although some will, when I am finished, be very different through different characters. One I really mess with the timeline...another has a Haradrim...another...Aragorn is not a member of the Fellowship...and then I have one more Fourth Age AU. I am thinking at least one Third Age before I do my last Fourth Age...do you agree...? Let me know!

Sierra


	25. The Beginning

Here we are. I have to say honestly, it's sad to be finished with this story and if I really wanted to I could probably continue for a long time, but we've come to a point where I can end it without too many questions. In addition, I've completed what I set out to do when I began this story, which was to tell the tale of how a fearful elleth saved a broken king and taught him how to love again. In return, he taught her to laugh, to trust and to live again. Therefore, we will leave them here, standing in the sunrise, looking to new beginnings away from all the pain of their pasts. I think it's a nice way to finish, don't you?

Sierra

P.S. Warning…will jump characters and time slightly…though it all takes place within about twenty-four hours. Page breaks will indicate the passing of time…even if it is only brief…hope it's not confusing for you.

P.P.S. Will be starting another Aragorn AU. This one will be Third Age…we'll see how I make out. Will start within two weeks of this post, after I update Born of Hope…unless I start before…hmmm…. we'll see.

Chapter Twenty-Five: The Beginning

He sat, his chin resting against his fist, at the head of the Council Chambers, trying valiantly to retain the words that were being spoken by his councillors. However, it became clearer to him with each hour that passed, that his efforts were failing beyond any expression of the word. It had been one week to the day since he had awoken and nearly all of his waking hours had been spent in meetings or councils in preparation for the Foreign Council. This of course meant that he had seen little of his wife, only to say goodnight to her as he pulled her close to him at whatever late hour of the night he was released from his duties and fell into bed beside her.

He sighed, his only contentment found in the fact that the Council of Gondor was strong, filled with men of valour and wisdom, many his kindred, the Dunedain. He looked to the windows high above through which he could see the blueness of the sky in late spring and longed to be outside these walls of white stone but even more than this, he longed to spend the day with her as he had not since their stay in Rivendell. He longed for his wife in a way that made all other things irrelevant and concentration for the task at hand impossible.

He shifted in his seat and looked to Eomer who sat at his right and Faramir who sat at his left, knowing they sensed his discontent though they could do nothing about it. He had sent Ilterrin to greet the newest arrivals and was himself scheduled to meet with one of the foreign lords in place of his noonday meal. He was tired of being king and felt almost like sulking as he had not done since he was a child and this thought brought a wry smile to his lips as he shifted in his seat yet again.

The soft knock at the door behind him, reserved for himself and those in his favour was welcomer than any gift and he nearly leapt from his seat to answer it before remembering that the guards would do so for him. However, he did turn to look and was ecstatic to see the fair elf standing there, smiling at him knowingly.

"Your pardon, Councillors, but if I might speak with the King for a moment," Legolas requested of the Council who had not the time to reply before Aragorn had left his seat and was on his way out the door, motioning that it be closed behind him.

"Thank you, Las," he stated in elvish smiling at his friend whose eyes sparkled impishly.

"You are welcome, Estel, though I do not think we've done anything of that sort since the time you insisted that you needed someone to protect you in Mirkwood to get me out of my father's councils when you were fifteen."

Aragorn laughed, at last relaxing now that he was free of the Council, for a short time at least.

"Indeed, Estel, I believe you are regressing," his elven brother chided as the twins came around the corner, a light cloak and saddlebag in hand.

"I am simply embracing the ways of the elves, Dan, I am retaining my youth."

His brothers eyed him sceptically as Legolas stifled a laugh beside him.

"Are you sure that you are well enough, Estel," the elder of the twins asked, instantly serious once more. He smiled, laying his hand on his brother's arm.

"Yes, Ro, I am certain, though I thank you for your concern. I believe that this will be better medicine than any of the obnoxious tonics King Silmarn is so fond of," he assured Elrohir and making a face as they began to walk towards his halls.

"You know that your Council will not be impressed by your disappearing act," Elladan continued, sounding very much like his father as Legolas readily told him, much to the elf's displeasure.

"Indeed, Estel, you are now king, you cannot simply go traipsing about as you once did," Elrohir continued before he interrupted.

"I am quite sure they will pardon me this once."

"I think Estel is right," Legolas agreed, "In fact, I expect the Faramir and Eomer wish they could do the same as neither one are overly fond of councils."

"You shall have to rescue them another day, my friend," he instructed as at last they reached the doors to his chambers where he knew she would be.

He smiled at the three elves that stood, studying him intently for any sign of pain or fever and finally finding none, they bade him farewell and left, their part in his plan finished. He entered his chambers and set the cloak and saddlebag on a nearby chair as she rose at his silent entrance, setting the book in her hands on the floor, her eyes questioning, knowing he was scheduled to be in council all day. His heart swelled at the delight that lit her dark eyes at the sight of him and made him all the more glad that he was no longer in the Council Chambers. Suddenly, there was a swift knock on the outer doors and he glanced back once before pulling her gently towards their bedchambers.

"Elessar!"

She was startled when he shushed her gently and placed his finger over her lips as he took one of her cloaks from the rack and deftly fastened it about her slender shoulders.

"Elessar, are you not going to answer the door?" she questioned playfully her smile betraying that she sensed he did not intend to do so.

"No," he answered quickly, smiling mischievously as he took her hand again and led her back into the outer chamber. "We are running away."

She looked at him; confusion written plainly on her gorgeous features but trusting him above all others as he quickly brushed his lips against her soft cheek. He picked up his bundle from the chair with one hand and with the other guided her to the door, knocking softly. A gentle tap answered him, the door opened and he led her through, pulling on his cloak as he walked hurriedly into the corridor. The guards smiled.

"Thank you, my friends," he stated quickly and they merely nodded as he took his wife's hand and began to nearly run to the other end of the hall.

"Elessar, where are we going," she demanded amusedly, giggling quietly as he opened the next set of doors and peered into the corridor to be sure that it was empty.

"Away from here," he answered. "I have been neglecting my most important duty and intend to remedy that immediately."

"And what would that be, my lord," she asked teasingly, gasping as he paused long enough to kiss her deeply before pulling up her hood, his silver eyes meeting hers for a long moment before he answered.

"You."

Her cheeks burned deep scarlet and he smiled as he led her on again. He felt wondrous freedom as they snuck through the halls of their own home, a thief in the king's palace, or so it would have appeared to any who saw them. They had just made it to the outer doors when he heard a very commanding voice speak his name.

"King Elessar."

King Silmarn watched as the King of Gondor paused, his hand upon the door and turned to face him. He had expected some amount of embarrassment from the man but there was none as Elessar's silver eyes met his own without fear. He had been sent by one of the councillors to seek their king, who had been summoned by a certain elf nearly half an hour past and had not been seen since. When he had spoken, his voice had been stern, much like the tone he had used with his children to convey his displeasure. Beneath this sternness were laughter and a smile that would despite his best efforts, soon be revealed to his daughter and her husband.

"I believe you are supposed to be in Council, are you not, King Elessar," he questioned, crossing his arms over his chest and trying his best to appear the unyielding and unforgiving father figure.

"So I have heard," the King answered a smile on his lips and Silmarn knew the King could tell he was not truly angry. "But I know of no king here other than yourself, merely a simple man who has missed his beautiful wife."

"I see."

"Please Adar, do not tell anyone we have gone."

He looked at his daughter's dark eyes and saw joy and youth in them, as he had once known himself. All were startled by the sound of a door opening further down the hall and the voice of Lord Faramir, instructing the guards to find King Elessar. Elessar's eyes flicked from the hall to Silmarn who looked behind him in the hall and then returned the young man's gaze.

"Be sure that you have returned in time for the banquet this evening," he instructed, his mock sternness still serving him.

Elessar smiled and opened the doors just as Silmarn called out to them.

"And children," he paused, waiting until they were both looking at him, his smile no longer hidden as he watched them. "Enjoy yourselves."

"Of course, your majesty," Elessar answered, bowing slightly before closing the doors softly behind them.

Silmarn wandered the halls of the palace of Gondor aimlessly, knowing that his daughter would have a good life here and wondering if he too would stay in Middle-earth or if he would return to Valinor. This place was strange to him, cold, and plain in comparison to Valinor and yet there was something about it, and its people that drew him irresistibly for reasons he did not understand. He stood upon a large balcony that looked out upon the Fields of Pelennor and watched for long moments, waiting. He smiled, realizing that perhaps there was more beauty in this place than he had thought, were he to take the time to look for it as he watched his daughter and her husband ride out from the city walls, free from all that bound them, their laughter reaching him even here, high up in the citadel of their city.

* * *

She felt the wondrous haze of deep and fearless sleep upon her as Elessar's arms drew her closer to him in his slumber. She sighed, wrapping her arms about his, completely at peace. The shadows of her past were gone and in their place were memories of Rivendell, of Rohan and of today. She smiled in the dark as she remembered their afternoon in the woods of Ithilien, away from any who could wish to disturb them. Elessar had seemed stronger than ever and his face was no longer lined with weariness as they sat and ate a light meal together beneath the boughs of mighty oaks, beside the chattering stream in which she had cooled her feet while he held her arms to steady her and be sure she did not fall. She had laughed when he drew her nearer until she saw his silver eyes and her heart grew warm as he kissed her with more tenderness than she had ever known.

She stirred slightly against him and he murmured words unknowable before burying his face against her neck and moving deeper into sleep. Soon the darkness around her began to melt away and all she knew was the brilliance of dreams. Dreams of the days to come. Of more such afternoons as they had shared this day, of more banquets among those whom were dearest to her, of their child and of other children to come, of the future of Gondor and the wondrous days that she would share with the one who lay beside her.

Whether it was a moment or hours, she could not tell, before she was awoken by the soft deep voice of one whom she recognized as Faramir, speaking to Elessar. Elessar shifted against her and moved to leave. She began to wake up, fearing something was wrong until he leaned over her and kissed her temple softly, placing his large hand upon her swollen abdomen as he whispered to her in elvish, bidding her to sleep, he would return shortly. Soothed by his assurances, she burrowed deeper into the warmth of the covers and let the world fade away, returning to dreams no longer tainted by fear or pain, safe in her beloved's kingdom.

Queen Hamiel followed the young man who had been brought to her by Lord Faramir who had met them at the door to the citadel. She was told his name was Elessar, that he was the King of Gondor, the city where Elrond had brought her. This man called Elessar was also her youngest daughter's husband. She had studied him intently as he spoke, his deep voice calm and wise as he spoke to her and her two elder children, telling them of Carynthiel's past in even greater detail than the Wizard had. He told of her days in Gondor and his deep love for her. Lastly, did he tell her of the impending birth of their first child, her grandchild.

She had not realized she was crying until Elessar had offered her a silk cloth for her tears. She had thanked him, meeting his argent eyes and holding their gaze for a long moment as her husband, Silmarn, pressed her hand gently. So many nights she had spent wondering about the fate of her daughter and now she was here, in the very room where her daughter slept peacefully having been saved from darkness and sorrow and taught to love again by the young King who now knelt at the bedside.

Elessar brushed his calloused hand against Carynthiel's face and she watched with delight as her daughter stirred and then awoke. Her heart broke as she saw her daughter's deep eyes meet Elessar's and saw the unfathomable love reflected there before the young King motioned toward where she herself stood, numb with joy as she watched her daughter stand. She opened her arms and welcomed her daughter into her embrace, weeping for joy as she held her lost child.

"I have missed you so much, my dear one," she whispered as she kissed her daughter's hair and pulled her close.

"I have missed you, Naneth," Carynthiel replied and Hamiel nearly wept again at the sound of her daughter's voice.

"You are alright," she asked, cupping her daughter's pale face in her hands and smiling when her daughter nodded before pulling her close again, unwilling to let her go just yet.

She looked over her daughter's head to Elessar, who sat patiently waiting on the edge of their bed, smiling, pleased that his wife had found her family once more. Hamiel realized though that her daughter was no longer hers alone and regained her composure slightly as she pulled away, knowing that it was to Elessar that Carynthiel was now bound and that it was he who held her daughter's heart. She watched as the King tenderly helped her daughter into the robe of white velvet and could not keep back the last tear before following them into the outer room where her two elder children immediately embraced their youngest sister, their fears having at last come to an end.

* * *

Elrond stood, staring at the night sky in the throne room of the White City with Gandalf and Frodo. They had insisted that Carynthiel's family be alone with she and Elessar for a while before they joined them. Faramir waited with them as did Ilterrin who had also been woken when they reached the gates two hours earlier. Now the night had nearly passed and Elrond felt his heart quiver with the anticipation of watching the sun rise over Middle-earth once more. He turned at the sound of movement outside the doors and was overjoyed to see his youngest son enter, his robe tied loosely over breeches rumpled from sleeping. He smiled, for only Estel would arrive in the throne room dressed as such while still King of Gondor.

"Adar," the man exclaimed as they embraced and Elrond realized that he was home. He could not leave these shores so long as his children remained here.

"It is good to see you, my son," he answered, pushing back the hair from his mortal son's face. "How are Queen Hamiel and her children?"

"They are resting now, rooms have been made for them in my halls as they have been for you."

"I thank you, for I am weary, it has been a long ride from Belfalas. I had expected Imrahil to be there to greet us but I am told he came to Gondor when he received word that her king was nearing Mandos Halls."

He watched as Estel turned his eyes away but no more was said on the matter for the small hobbit that had been dozing nearby had been awakened by Gandalf and was now thrilled to see his friend.

"Strider! It is wonderful to see you again," the hobbit exclaimed as the King of Gondor knelt to embrace the young hobbit.

His attention however, was elsewhere as the doors to the end of the hall opened and Legolas led in the Lady of Arnor. His mind stopped as he took in the full sight of her, meeting her dark eyes as she smiled at him shyly. Gandalf also was left speechless it seemed as Legolas guided her towards them, his hand under her arm to steady her for she was great with child and Elrond was even more startled when he was struck with the realization that his little Estel was the father of that child.

He watched in silence as the small hobbit left the arms of the King and turned to the timid lady and her elven companion. Frodo had spoken of his desire to see again the Lady of Arnor and Elrond was pleased to see the young hobbit's peace as he carefully embraced the Lady. For a moment, the hobbit looked into her dark eyes and Elrond did not miss the understanding that passed between them and knew that the hobbit would return often to this city, though all the Shire might bid him stay. In her, Frodo had found the light that eased the darkness of his memories and lessened the lingering weight of his burden.

At last, Estel helped her to stand, his arm around her waist as her small figure was swallowed up by Estel's protective form, while Frodo spoke to Legolas, asking of Gimli, Sam and the other Shire dwellers. He looked at his young son and saw the pride and adoration marking his usually stern features, telling of his rapture at the impending birth of his child and his love for the elleth who bore it. He opened his arms to her and drew her close as he gently kissed her dark hair. He looked past her to Estel who stood, watching his wife with careful eyes searching for any sign of weariness or discomfort. For a moment, their eyes met and he smiled, remembering Estel's days as a child in Rivendell and all the days since then.

"I assume that this is your doing, Estel," he asked and watched his mortal son's face redden at the unbridled laughter of Legolas and Gandalf. "I believe that this makes me a grandfather," he stated and the elleth in his arms laughed softly as she pulled away.

"Aye, Adar, it does indeed," his son answered finally regaining the use of his speech.

"Good, I only pray that your child shall not be so energetic as you were, for the sake of your wife, if nothing else," he told his son teasingly. "I am afraid that Gondor could not yet survive a child such as you were, my son."

"Perhaps that means that I shall have to leave my child in your care then, Adar, as you seemed to have weathered the storm of my childhood well enough," Estel challenged and Elrond laughed in spite of himself, pleased that the kingship of Gondor had not lessened his son's good nature.

* * *

The city was quiet. All those who had come in the night now lay sleeping, resting for as long as they could before the long day began while those who had lain sleeping began to think of waking and the first shards of the sun's light broke over the horizon. None it seemed were awake except for them as they stood at the edge of the citadel, looking down the Anduin towards the sea. The plains glittered with dew, like shattered glass sparkling beneath the pale light of the new day's sun. The sky was a mere shadow of blue, faint and distant above them, cool in the early hours of the morning. A gentle breeze stirred the air, a freshness that spoke of new beginnings hanging upon its soft voice, as she looked to the elven ship that sat silent upon the waters of the Anduin.

They had come to her. All those she had ever loved had returned to her and now nothing in this world would ever cause her to feel fear again. She felt her heart stir as the wind caught the standard upon the mast of the ship and unfurled its pale colours that shone in the growing light of dawn. She smiled as he slipped his arms about her waist and drew her close against him as they stood, waiting for what they knew would come.

"The dawn is coming," he whispered in her ear, his words tickling as she placed her hands on his, rubbing his hands made rough by years as a ranger.

For a moment, he was silent and she moved so that she could look up at his face and saw doubt there as his eyes rested on her father's banner upon the silver ship in the distance.

"Will you go back with them, to Valinor," he asked, his voice quiet as the still morning and she was startled that even now he would doubt her love for him, for their child, for their people, for their city.

She turned to him and looked past his strong form to the standards of the King of Gondor, the White Tree and a crown of stars. She looked to the guards who stood at the doors to the palace, standing guard over her as they would one day stand guard over her children. She looked lastly to the walls of white stone that began to glimmer and take on the colour of the purest gold, as at last, the sun broke free from the night. Beneath the walls, stood the White Tree and the fountain beneath its boughs tinkled against the marble of its basin as a songbird lit upon the branches of the Tree and began to sing, praising the sky for the return of the dawn.

She looked up at him and placed her hand against his cheek, meeting his silver eyes and smiling, watching as his face grew light for he knew her answer. He leaned down and kissed her deeply as he traced the curve of her neck with his hand and she returned his kiss feeling tears slip down her cheeks, for she loved him. She loved him above all other things and always would his house be her home. No longer did standard of Valinor call to her, but that of Gondor, of the heir of Elendil whom she loved with every part of her being.

When at last they parted, the sun had lit the City afire and it shone as if it were burning against the dark earth beneath it and the pale mountains behind. The City began to stir and she took his hand and turned back to the horizon, closing her eyes at the sound of silver trumpets that heralded the return of the sun. Behind her, she felt Elessar stir at the sound, smiling for she sensed his joy as his arms slid again around her waist and he leaned forward and whispered in her ear so she heard him plainly above the trumpets call.

"I love you."

The Beginning


End file.
